Quickened
by P.H. Wise
Summary: Buffy really DID come back wrong, and the consequences of this draw her into an even greater conflict... (a Buffy-Angel-Highlander crossover)
1. Prologue: Red in Tooth and Claw

Quickened  
  
by P.H. Wise  
  
A Buffy crossover fanfic  
  
Prologue: Red in Tooth and Claw  
  
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England, 1227 AD  
  
She fought as she always had. Fist for fist, blood for blood. This was her life. This was her nature; red in tooth and claw. They danced the dance of death together, vampire and Slayer, she full of grace and rage in equal measure, he little better than an animal, albeit a cunning one. Blocking, ducking, weaving, punching, kicking, jumping.  
  
A middle-aged, graying man lay face-down in the muddy grass but a few feet away from the two combatants, blood pooling around his body. The night was cold, but the cold seeping into his limbs was something quite different than mere temperature.  
  
The ancient vampire, hairless, baring pale fangs that gleamed in the moonlight, set within a mouth that had long ago been stained by the blood of his victims, leaped over her kick and landed behind her. The Slayer couldn't turn quickly enough – she took a brutal hit to the back that sent her reeling. Blue eyes widened. One misstep was all it took in a battle like this.  
  
The vampire caught her by her long, blonde hair and yanked her savagely into his arms. Almost effortlessly he twisted her arms around behind her until they broke with a sickening snap. She screamed, though more out of rage than pain. He laughed, and sank his teeth into her neck. The Slayer's blood flowed into his mouth, and he drank.  
  
Her watcher struggled to rise, but lacked the strength to do so. It reminded the vampire of the last feeble floppings of a fish too-long removed from the water. That thought made him laugh, and he nearly lost his hold on her throat. This angered him. It wouldn't do to waste even one drop of a drought as heady as the Slayer's blood. It just wouldn't do.  
  
At length, the vampire had drunk his fill. Smiling bloodily, he slashed his own wrist with his talon-like fingernails and pressed the seeping wound to the Slayer's lips.  
  
She drank.  
  
The Watcher, his vision dimming, reached for his Slayer. "Alisoun..." he whispered, and his tone was the tone of one whose last hope was fading before his eyes. He shuddered, stiffened, and lay still. 


	2. Coming Back Wrong

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
  
A Buffy crossover fanfic  
  
Chapter 1: Coming Back Wrong  
  
---------------------------------  
  
A voice speaks in the darkness, echoing through those vast, unlit chambers beneath the earth. "...the warrior of the people... let her cross over!" And with the voice came life. Her corpse, decayed, desiccated, suddenly filled with life. Above ground, lightning surged up around those who had cast the spell. Headstones shattered, and sparks erupted from the earth in great fountains. .  
A female voice, full of panic, speaks in the darkness. "Is this supposed to happen?"   
Another female voice answers, and the echoes are long in fading. "I don't know!"  
Silence.  
  
Darkness. Warren comes storming into the yard at the Summers' home, pistol in hand. Buffy and Xander whirl around as he approaches. He fires. Buffy falls. A voice echoes in the long night: "Willow... your shirt..."  
Silence.  
  
Darkness. Willow, her eyes pools of infinite, empty darkness, stands before Buffy's hospital bed. She gestures, and the bullet floats out of the wound and drops to the floor. Buffy flatlines. Willow gestures, and electricity jolts Buffy's pulse back into place for a few seconds before flatline returns. Enraged, Willow storms out of the hospital as Buffy's corpse grows cold.  
Silence.  
  
Darkness. Buffy lies dead on a cold slab in the morgue. Xander and Dawn stare at her body in stunned silence. Suddenly, Buffy gasps for breath, and sits up. Xander's jaw drops open, and Dawn rushes to her sister's side. "Buffy? BUFFY!"  
Silence.  
  
Darkness. Dark Willow faces off against Buffy at the Magic Box. Buffy fights to protect Andrew and Jonathan, as Anya chants a counter-spell to block Dark Willow's magics. "Just because I can't use magic on you doesn't mean I can't use it on myself."  
Silence.  
  
Darkness. Xander embraces Willow before the ancient temple of Vocipaxa. Willow's weeping echoes endlessly into the distance as Xander whispers assurances of love.  
Silence.  
  
-----------------------------------  
  
The Magic Box looked like a bomb had gone off within it, and that wasn't far from the truth. Broken glass was everywhere, and not a single piece of merchandise remained intact. Shelves had been torn to pieces, and the upper level of the store had collapsed on the lower. Amidst this destruction, in a little circle that had been cleared of glass and broken merchandise, Buffy, Giles, Dawn and Anya sat. It was now an hour since Xander had stopped Willow from destroying the world, and these four had been talking for about half an hour now, mostly about what was going to happen to Willow now. The red-headed witch in question was nowhere to be seen. She couldn't bring herself to face her friends after what she had done. Not yet. Well, except for Xander. Nobody ever seemed to have trouble facing Xander. Funny syphilis and bug-eating doesn't generally lend itself to intimidation.  
  
"Giles," Dawn began, glancing at Buffy, "There's one more thing you need to know about."  
  
Buffy shifted uneasily, but said nothing.  
  
Giles looked at Dawn expectantly.  
  
".... Buffy died in the hospital."  
  
Giles glanced at Buffy, and at her confirming nod, said the only thing that he could think to say.  
  
"Oh dear."  
  
"You're not a vampire, are you?" Anya asked.  
  
Buffy pointed up at the hole in the roof through which the sun was beaming into the ruined shop. "Oh," said Anya.  
  
"Oh, again, dear." Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them with a cloth before replacing them. "Buffy," he said, "I'd like to try something. It will hurt, but you must trust me."  
  
Buffy nodded. "I trust you."  
  
Giles produced a small pocket knife and stabbed Buffy through the palm of her hand.  
  
"OW!" Buffy yelped, yanking her hand away with enough force to dislodge the knife. "GILES!" The bloody knife clattered to the ground.  
  
Dawn stared at Giles in disbelief. Anya didn't react.  
  
"Just watch. Hold out your hand, Buffy."  
  
Buffy held out her hand, and for a long moment nothing happened. And then a little band of electrical energy coursed across the wound. Instantly, the wound was gone.  
  
"Buffy...?" Dawn asked, staring at her sister as if she'd just sprouted another head.  
  
"This isn't another Slayer power, is it?" Buffy asked, staring at her hand.  
  
Anya frowned. "Isn't that against the rules?"  
  
"Oh dear. Oh, dear." Giles cleaned his glasses again.  
  
"What? What's wrong with Buffy?" asked Dawn.  
  
"Giles, the Slayer isn't allowed to be Immortal."  
  
Anya's words hit Buffy like a freight train, and it took her a long moment to recover enough that she could speak again. "... immortal?" she asked, and it came out as a near squeak. "Are you telling me that I'm immortal?"  
  
"Well, mostly," " said Anya. "But the Slayer's not supposed to be immortal. It's against the rules." She looked closely at Buffy. "You ARE still the Slayer, right?"  
  
Buffy promptly put her fist through one of the few remaining pieces of unbroken furniture in the room. "Still the slayer."  
  
Dawn frowned at Anya. "What do you mean, 'mostly?'"  
  
Giles took a deep breath. "It's a long story."  
  
"You can't die unless someone cuts off your head," said Anya, smiling brightly. "Oh!" she held up her index finger, "Oh, and if another immortal cuts off your head they get all your skills and knowledge."  
  
Giles gave Anya an annoyed glance. "But apparently not that long."  
  
"Wait," said Dawn, shaking her head. "Buffy can't be immortal. She's died three times!" The others turned and looked at her, and after a long moment, she flushed red. "One of those times she didn't come back! Well, not until we made her come back, that is."  
  
Giles nodded thoughtfully. "Did you notice anything, well, strange, during the resurrection?"  
  
"You mean besides the Buffy getting resurrected part?"  
  
"Well, yes, besides that."  
  
Anya thought for a moment. "Well... there was that peculiar electrical disturbance. It sent sparks all over the place, and blew up a few headstones. It was actually very pretty. It reminded me of this time I was in Prague. I was taking vengeance for this noblewoman whose newly wedded husband had cheated on her with their maid. She wished that his insides would explode like Chinese fireworks, and..."  
  
"ANYA!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The electrical disturbance."  
  
Anya frowned. "Say, you don't think that was..."  
  
Dawn and Buffy exchanged glances, neither of them understanding the significance of this exchange. "Care to explain for those of us who don't get it yet?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I apologize." said Giles. "Buffy, this is difficult. Nothing like this has EVER happened in all of the history of the world... when you were resurrected, your friends must have, somehow, invoked the primordial power of the Quickening. Instead of just restoring you to life, they restored you to eternal life."  
  
"Quickie-what?"  
  
Anya turned to Buffy and smiled a fake smile. "Congratulations, Buffy. You're immortal."  
  
Silence descended then, and held for about thirty seconds.. Finally, Buffy spoke. "Are you saying that when I came back... I really did come back wrong?"  
  
No one had an answer for her.  
  
(End Chapter One)   
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Like it? Love it? Hate it? Want to make my insides explode like Chinese fireworks? Tell me about it at stillwellphwhotmail.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money. 


	3. Rules of the Game

Quickened   
by P.H. Wise   
A Buffy crossover fanfic  
  
Chapter 2: Rules of the Game  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.  
  
------------------------  
  
Giles' car rounded the corner at the end of the block and vanished behind a row of houses. He was taking Willow to England for her magical twelve-step program, and had promised to send someone to help Buffy while he was gone. In the meantime, though... The two sisters watched the empty street for several minutes, standing side by side. Dusk had fallen, and Venus shone brightly just above the horizon.  
At length, Dawn spoke. "Buffy, what are we going to do now?"  
"Me? I'm going out to patrol. You? You've got homework."  
"School hasn't started yet." Dawn wasn't particularly amused.  
"I knew that."  
Dawn waited for Buffy to give her an answer. When the slayer remained silent, a look of annoyance flashed across Dawn's face. "I meant about..."  
"I know what you meant," said Buffy, shaking her head as she glanced at her sister. "I'm trying not to think about it."  
"Can I come with? Patrolling, I mean."  
Buffy raised an eyebrow at that. "No. There's been way too much vamp activity out there for you to come along."  
"I can handle myself."  
"I know you can," said Buffy, using her best 'older sister' voice, "But if you want me to teach you, then you're going to have to respect my judgement. Not tonight."  
Dawn clearly wasn't pleased, but said nothing.  
  
-----------------------------  
  
About an half hour later, Buffy, having met up with Xander, was patrolling the streets of Sunnydale. Despite the increased vampire activity the previous few nights, it was a fairly slow night. The lights of the city gleamed cheerily in the darkness – a steady breeze throughout most of the day had carried the Los Angeles area's ever-present haze of smog over the hills and into the desert, leaving it as lovely a night as one could ask for. Unfortunately, a lovely night plus slow generally meant boring: hence, the subject of their conversation.  
"I dunno, Buffy, I've always preferred the original Kung Fu series. The Legend Continues just didn't have the same impact. There's just no substitute for the original Kwai Chang Caine."  
"Hmm," said Buffy.  
"You know, you could PRETEND that you were remotely interested in the conversation."  
"Hmm."  
Xander raised an eyebrow. "... Well, the biggest problem with Kung Fu: The Legend Continues, was of course the Daleks, what with their nefarious scheme to bring free tapioca pudding to children all across the world."  
The Slayer gave Xander a strange look. She hadn't been paying attention, but that didn't stop her from commenting. "Who? What? The evil force of tapioca daleks?"  
Xander grinned sheepishly.  
Buffy prepared to let loose with a bitingly sarcastic remark, but the words died on her lips. She stopped suddenly at the entrance to an alleyway with a confused look. There was a peculiar... squirming... kind of pressure in the back of her head.  
"Buffy?" Xander asked. The Slayer didn't answer.  
She ducked into the alleyway without a word, and Xander followed with a shrug.  
The shadows of the alleyway resolved themselves into four shapes as Buffy approached – a middle-aged man surrounded by three vampires. The man was unarmed. So was one of the vampires, while the other two wielded a baseball bat and a knife, respectively. Yet the man wasn't watching the vampires. He was watching Buffy, and there was recognition in his eyes.  
The vampires also recognized her, though for a different reason. "Slayer!" one of them hissed.  
Buffy turned towards the vampires in an exaggeratedly mechanical fashion. "Exterminate!" she said in a near monotone, although she couldn't keep the faintest of wry smiles from her lips. The vamps exchanged confused looks briefly before putting their game-faces on. And then the Slayer leaped into battle.  
The middle-aged man stood and stared as Buffy easily sidestepped the punch of the unarmed vampire and kicked him into the wall of the alley. The other two fell upon her, then, but Slayer strength and speed made her more than a match for them. She traded blows for a few seconds before calling out, "Xander!"  
Xander produced a wooden stake from his jacket pocket and tossed it to Buffy, who caught it and staked the unarmed vampire. As the vamp disintegrated into a pile of dust, Buffy ducked beneath the swing of the bat-wielder. The third lunged at her with his knife, and she caught the blade between the palms of her hands before snapping it off at the handle with a quick turn of her wrist. The vampire gazed stupidly at his broken knife for a split second, and that was all the opening that the Slayer needed. An instant later, he too had been dusted.  
The final vampire, seeing that his allies had been easily dispatched, turned and ran the other way.  
The middle-aged man's jaw dropped open slightly.  
"You know," said Xander, "As often as I see that, it never gets old."  
Buffy nodded, smiling wryly. "The real classics never get stale. Kind of like Buster Keaton."  
"Who?"  
"Bad example. Maybe more like freshly baked bread. Except without the getting stale thing that bread tends to do."  
"Right," said Xander.  
The middle-aged man interrupted their banter, his voice filled with unease, and his eyes wide. "Those were vampires?"  
Buffy turned to regard the man. He was clean-shaven, with sandy- blonde hair, brown eyes, and clothing much better suited to a colder climate. "Yah-huh," said Buffy, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world."  
"Vampires exist!?"  
"Wow, he's two for two. What's he win, Buff?"  
Buffy started to respond, but cut off when the man produced a broadsword from somewhere in his duster. There was no WAY he could have been concealing such a weapon in his jacket, yet there it was nonetheless.  
"Woah!" said Xander, backing away.  
With both hands around the hilt, the man placed the point of the blade into the ground and bowed to Buffy. He spoke with grave formality. "I am James Moore." He paused, watching Buffy expectantly.  
Buffy said nothing, not immediately realizing that he expected her to introduce herself. At length, she said, "... Buffy Summers."  
"As a token of my gratitude for your assistance, Buffy Summers, I shall not seek your head this night."  
Buffy and Xander exchanged glances.  
"Um... thanks," said Buffy. "Not being attacked by an old guy with a sword, always a plus."  
James smiled thinly as he replaced his broadsword somewhere in the folds of his duster. There was a look of understanding in his eyes and a dark smile upon his lips as he turned and walked away, his coat billowing out dramatically behind him.  
"OK," said Xander, watching Mr. Moore's departure, "Maybe next time we can rescue some of the sane...er residents of Sunnydale.  
"Buff?  
"Buffy?"  
Buffy didn't answer, instead staring off in the direction James had gone, a peculiar look on her face.  
"Buffster?" asked Xander, putting a hand on her shoulder.  
She blinked and turned towards him suddenly. "What? What is it?"  
"You feeling ok? You've been acting kind of out of it all night...."  
Buffy spoke with confidence, but her expression was doubtful. "I'm fine," she said.  
  
--------------------  
  
Summer drew on, hot, sleepy days drifting into warm, star-speckled nights. The smog came and went, though Sunnydale was far enough away from the real smog-pits to escape the worst of it. A sleepy summer day not too long after the encounter with James Moore found Buffy and Dawn walking together down the bright streets of Sunnydale's commercial district. People milled about, attending to whatever errands had brought them here, but the crowds were still thin, and would remain so until the evening, when the majority of the shoppers would emerge from their air conditioned havens to purchase whatever necessities (or vanities) they thought they needed.  
"So then, he pulls a BROADSWORD out of his jacket."  
"A broadsword?" Dawn asked incredulously. "A broadsword! Then he sticks it in the ground and says," Buffy began speaking in her best 'pretentious old guy' voice, "As a token of my gratitude for your assistance, Buffy Summers, I shall not seek your head this night."  
"So he'll seek your head some other night?"  
Buffy frowned.  
"Wait," said Dawn, "Didn't Anya say that the only way for someone with the quickie-whatsit to die is to lose their head?"  
"Yes..." said Buffy, not much liking where this was going.  
"Do you think this other guy was like you?"  
Buffy shrugged. "It's possible. The Hellmouth tends to draw all sorts of nasties. It'd make sense if it drew Immortals, too. But why would he want to kill me?"  
"Anya said something about that, didn't she?"  
"Do you remember what it was?"  
"Nope."  
"Me neither."  
They moved on their way, going into some stores, steering clear of the ones that Dawn had robbed during her whole 'kleptomaniac phase,' and slowly began to amass several bags of clothing and assorted miscellaneous objects.  
As the morning drifted into the afternoon, and the summer heat grew stifling, Buffy and Dawn stopped in front of a 7-11.  
"You thirsty?" Buffy asked.  
Dawn looked at the 7-11 for a long moment and said nothing.   
At length, Buffy spoke again. "I didn't mean for that to be a stumper."   
"I can't go in there."   
"Why not?"   
"I stole some soap from there."   
Buffy grew incredulous. "Soap? As in plain old hand soap?"   
"... It seemed like a good idea at the time."   
"I suppose it could be worse. You COULD have stolen something REALLY stupid. Like a toothbrush."   
Dawn struggled to suppress a guilty look.   
"Look, I'll go on and grab some water. You wait here, ok?"   
"OK."   
Buffy headed into the convenience store, and Dawn sat down on the curb to wait. As she waited for her sister, she noticed an old homeless man shuffling her way from down the street. Dawn turned to look at him.   
"No, no," he said, muttering to himself, "Ants. Ants are crawling all over. Musn't let them crawl on me. No, no. No bugs on me. Bugs. Bugs... Kill the bugs. Too many ants. No..." He went on like that as he approached, and Dawn stood up and backed away from the curb (into the parking lot of the 7-11) to let him pass. Sunnydale was hard on the homeless, and few survived for long without going mad.   
Buffy emerged from the store, holding two bottles of water. "Dawn!" she called.   
The homeless man met Dawn's gaze, and she saw madness in his eyes, as though he wasn't really seeing her at all. And then the look of distant madness cleared. His eyes widened. "She's not real!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Several people turned and stared. Dawn reacted as if she'd been slapped, quickly growing visibly upset. "Not real!" the crazy old man went on, "Empty space! Nothing there!" And then he addressed Dawn directly. "YOU DON'T BELONG! The key!"  
Buffy put her hand on Dawn's shoulder. "Come on," she said.  
They quickly left the screaming man behind them. Neither one of them were much in the mood for shopping after that, so they began the long walk home. As they went, Dawn glanced at Buffy.  
"I'm NOT the key anymore," she said, with doubt in her voice. "That's all behind us now."  
Buffy nodded, and there was no doubt whatsoever in her voice when she spoke. "You're not the key anymore. You're my sister, and you always will be."  
Dawn smiled.  
At that moment, just as they were passing in front of a familiar alleyway, Buffy stopped in her tracks. There it was again - that freaky crawling pressure on the back of her head. It was coming from something within the alleyway.  
"Buffy?"  
Buffy handed her shopping bags to Dawn. "Dawn, wait here."  
Buffy moved into the alley. Naturally, Dawn ignored her sister's instructions to remain behind and followed her, doing her best to remain unseen.  
Buffy followed the alley to the end, where it widened considerably. Trash speckled the ground, and an old rusted dumpster stood off to the side. And there, standing in front of the dead end wall at the end of the alley, was James Moore, broadsword in hand.  
"I've been waiting for you, Miss Summers," he said. "I knew that you would pass this way eventually."  
Buffy shrugged. "What do you want with me?"  
"I think you know."  
Buffy raised an eyebrow.  
"There can be only one." With those words, James moved. Really though, to say that he moved was on the same level as saying that Shakespeare used words. With the sure skill of a thousand years study of the combat arts, James Moore glided towards Buffy like a wraith, swinging his broadsword in a short arc meant to take her head off in one swift stroke.  
Buffy ducked underneath his swing. James quickly followed up with a thrust. A broadsword was designed for slashing, but it was still a very heavy weapon, and even if the tip wouldn't gut a person stabbed by it, it would still hurt considerably. Skilled as he was, James had never faced an opponent like the Slayer before. Buffy easily sidestepped the thrust, caught hold of the swordsman's hands, and then crushed them, breaking nearly every bone in both of his hands.  
James cried out in pain and dropped the sword. Before he had so much as a chance to do more than that, the Slayer struck him in the gut with a powerful blow that blasted the air from his lungs. He fell to the ground.  
Buffy retrieved the broadsword and then stood over the fallen immortal.  
"...Do it," he hissed.  
The Slayer blinked. "Do what? Listen, Jim. You're going to explain to me EXACTLY why you tried to kill me just now."  
James shook his head. "There's no way... with that kind of strength, you'd have to be the oldest of the old. You can drop the act, Miss Summers. Take my head and be done with it."  
Buffy was horrified at that. "You expect me to cut off your head!?"  
"Those are the rules."  
"Look, Jim. I don't have ANY idea what you're talking about, so why don't you explain it to me."  
James looked down at his hands. They were healing, but it would take time to fully regenerate the damage that had been done to them. "... Do you seriously expect me to believe that you're a newborn immortal?"  
"I don't care what you believe. EXPLAIN." Buffy pressed the blade of the sword against the man's neck.  
"... It's always been this way. This is the Game. The Immortals have always fought, all throughout history. When one immortal takes the head of another, all of the power and knowledge of the defeated goes to the victor. Now is the time of the Gathering, when those of us who are left fight until the last for the Prize."  
Revulsion suffused Buffy's mind. She could scarcely believe what she was hearing. "What!?"  
James smiled grimly. "In the end, there can be only one."  
"WHAT!?" Buffy took the broadsword and snapped it in half before throwing the pieces into the gutter. "Listen to me VERY carefully, Jim."  
James looked up at the enraged Slayer, just barely daring to hope that he might live through this.  
"I have no interest in playing your... game," she said the word as if it were a curse. "Now get the hell out of my town."  
She turned and walked back the way she had come. "DAWN!" she called. Dawn stood up from where she had been hiding behind the rusted dumpster.  
"You can't escape from the game, Miss Summers," James said as he rose to his feet. "The Gathering is upon us. Even if I go, others will come. Some of them won't be above using your friends and loved ones to get to you."  
Dawn headed back towards the street as Buffy turned back to face James. "I won't allow that to happen."  
"You really think you can stop it?" James laughed. "You think you can stand against the Gathering? Who do you think you are?"  
Buffy smiled grimly. "I'm the Slayer." With that, she turned and followed Dawn back out into the light of day.  
  
(END CHAPTER 2)  
  
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Like it? Love it? Hate it? Want to conquer the universe and distribute free tapioca pudding to everyone? Tell me about!  



	4. “Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote

Quickened   
by P.H. Wise   
A Buffy crossover fanfic  
  
Chapter 3: "Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote..."  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.  
  
------------------------  
  
The dilapidated church stood empty, its pews long since rotted to dust. The clear ringing tones of the minister who had once preached here had long since faded into memory. Broken stain-glass windows depicted a now fragmentary account of the Passion, and moonlight shone through the gaps.  
Near the ruined podium a young woman stood at ease, her long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Her body language totally belied the baleful glare that she directed at her servants. They cringed. "I did ne wiste that myne devyse to parfornen neede grete hardynesse," she said, slipping in her anger back into her native mode of speech as she paced to and fro.  
"Your pardon, my lady... what did you say?"   
Alisoun tried not to grind her teeth. Carefully, she repeated herself, this time taking care to use modern English. "I didn't think my commands were all that complicated," she said, glaring at her flunkies. "Go forth, find the slayer, and report back immediately." She paused for dramatic effect. "Why is it then, that out of twenty some vampires that I sent out, only ONE has bothered to return?"  
The vampire in question glanced about the room nervously. The hostile glares of his fellows did not encourage him. He smiled hopefully. "They have skiball, Lady Alisoun."  
The young woman developed an odd twitch just above her left eye. "...Skiball?" she asked, her tone completely flat. "How am I supposed to find and kill the Slayer..." she paused as if to take a breath – though this was force of habit, and had not been necessary for her for many years. Anger crept into her voice as she continued. "... if my minions woulde rather play SKIBALL than do my bidding!?"  
"You might try the phonebook," the vampire suggested helpfully. "It's much easier than searching the city house by house, or just wandering around the streets until we find her."  
Alisoun's twitch got worse. She produced a wooden stake from within her coat and quickly staked her unfortunate servant. As he burst into a cloud of dust, she placed her hands on her hips and turned to another vampire in her service. "What's a phone book?"  
  
--------------------------  
  
"Well, I don't see why you have to paw through the remains of my place of business," said Anya, grousing sourly at the intrusion into her vengeance-demony plans for the day. "Why don't you dig through what's left of the old school? It's on the hellmouth, after all. I'm sure you'd find something useful there."  
Xander exchanged glances with Buffy, and Dawn set her backpack down by what was left of the table that the scoobies had traditionally used as research space.  
"Ahn," Xander began, with a very 'patient' tone of voice, "the high school is a construction site just now. My crew's been working on it for a while now. And all of the books in the old library were destroyed in the fire."  
"Does the juvenile delinquent have to be here too? I don't want any of my rubble stolen. It may not be much, but I might still be able to sell some of it."  
"OK then," said Dawn, "Got it. No rubble-stealing."  
That seemed to satisfy the vengeance demon. Or perhaps she had run out of things to say. In any case, she remained silent for the moment.  
"So what are we even looking for here, Buff?" Xander asked.  
Buffy picked up a very weathered ancient tome, which promptly fell apart, its pages fluttering everywhere. "...Anything. I can't be walking blind anymore. I need to know everything I can about immortals." She glanced through some of the fallen pages. "Demons, demons, demons. Hmm."  
Xander scooped another book out of the rubble, this one in better shape than most of the others. He started to flip through it, and then dropped it a moment later. Every page was blank. "Must have been one of the books that Willow drained," he murmered.  
"I still need to charge her for those," said Anya. "Do you think she'll pay for them when she comes back?"  
Buffy shrugged. "I'm sure if you ask her nicely..."  
Dawn nodded as she too began searching through the books. "What's a few books filled to the brim with the blackest of magics between friends?"  
The four of them searched through what they could salvage of the books for the next few hours with little success.  
"Hey! I found something!" said Xander, pointing excitedly to the page he was looking at. "It's on seven immortal sisters, or something."  
Anya glanced at the book he was holding, and smiled faintly. "That's the Dungeons and Dragons sourcebook, Xander," she said.  
"... Oh," he said, glancing at the cover before putting it into the 'useless book' pile. "Of all the books to survive in good condition, why did it have to be that one?"  
"I don't think you're going to find anything here," said Anya. "Giles never had any books on immortals. The Slayer isn't supposed to be a part of the Game, after all."  
Xander blinked. "You could have said that, oh, I don't know, three hours ago?"  
Dawn creased her brow thoughtfully. "Anya, didn't you say you knew something about immortals before? When we first found out about this?"  
Anya nodded. "Of course! I've been avenging wronged women for a long time. I've certainly cursed my share of immortals."  
"So you can tell us what we want to know about them, and we don't need to search these books at all?"  
Anya perked up. "Probably. I'm not an expert, but I've run into a few of them."  
Buffy and Xander exchanged looks.  
"We're dumb," said Xander.  
Buffy nodded.  
All eyes turned to Anya.  
"Well, I suppose I can tell you what I know about them." The vengeance demon paused a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "Let's see. They're immortal, obviously. Unless you cut off their heads, in which case they're not immortal and they tend to die. Hmm. They'll heal just about any injury that's dealt them short of losing a body part entirely. Oh, and if one immortal cuts off the head of another immortal, they get all of their victim's power and knowledge." She paused. "Or was it skills and knowledge? Or maybe it was skills and mojo? I don't remember. Supposedly, they're all playing this game where they want to cut off every other immortals head until there's only one left, and that one gets something called 'the Prize,' whatever that is. That's about it."  
Buffy nodded thoughtfully. "Didn't you say something about 'Slayers aren't supposed to be immortal?'"  
Anya nodded. "Your being immortal is a clear violation of several treaties between the hell-gods and the Powers That Be."  
"Treaties?" asked Xander.  
"Well, a long time ago, the Powers That Be and the powers of darkness were openly at war. That was before my time, but I heard stories of battles between vast armies of demons and hosts of celestial beings that left huge trails of burning destruction in their wake. Most of the time they didn't fight here on earth, but sometimes it spilled over, and entire continents would burn.  
"Eventually, they realized that if they were constantly fighting each other, they wouldn't be able to get much done, so they declared a cease-fire that prohibited that kind of direct action from ever happening again. Not that your typical demon lord cares about that, but that's why we only have swarms of demons and vampires to deal with instead of gibbering hordes. One of the requirements of the treaty was that no immortal could be Chosen as the Slayer."  
"Why not?" Buffy asked.  
"Imagine a warrior with hundreds, or even thousands of years of training on top of fully developed slayer abilities."  
Xander shrugged. "So she'd be a really really effective slayer. What's the big deal?"  
"Well, the hell-gods certainly don't want THAT. The Powers That Be don't want that either, but for different reasons."  
"Like what?"   
Anya glanced at Buffy. "So Buffy, do you want to be the Slayer forever? You know how you were in Heaven before Willow and the rest of us ripped you out? How do you feel about never seeing Heaven again, and spending the rest of eternity stuck here on earth with nothing but endless battle to look forward to? Well, that and the pain of seeing everyone you've ever loved grow old and die. I guess you could make new friends after your current friends die, but then they'd grow old and die too."  
Everyone got that horrible sinking feeling in the pits of their stomachs. Except for Buffy, that is, who was staring at Anya with open, unmasked horror.  
"Unless someone takes your head, that is. In which case they take your soul and your quickening into them, absorbing all that you are and were, forever."  
Buffy vomited noisily onto the broken floor of the shop, and Dawn glared openly at Anya.  
Xander looked like he was going to be sick. "... OK, we get the point, Ahn. But you didn't need to go that far."  
Anya's expression softened. "I'm sorry. But it's important for you to understand the seriousness of your situation. Especially since, when the demon world learns of your immortality, there will be hell to pay. Literally."  
They sat in silence for several long minutes, and both Xander and Dawn moved to embrace Buffy, who began sobbing noiselessly.  
At length, Dawn spoke, and broke the embrace. "...Buffy? I think I might have found something."  
Buffy looked up at her sister through tear-streaked eyes.  
"It's a book on Angel before he became all soulful." She held up the page that she'd been reading. "Here, look at this!"  
Buffy wiped her eyes and began to read aloud in an uncertain voice. "On valentine's day in 1894, Angelus nailed a puppy to the doors of..."  
Dawn quickly interrupted. "The next part."  
Visibly relieved, Buffy skipped a few lines and continued reading. "OK. 1894, in Italy, Angelus and William the Bloody ran into a being called 'The Immortal,' who became their arch-rival in all the years that followed." She blinked.  
"The Immortal?"  
"Maybe it's a different kind of immortal," said Anya. "I've heard that a mixture of vitamins and barley-green will do wonders."  
Xander grimaced. "Much as I hate to say it... we should probably talk to Angel. If he knows more about whatever society the immortals have than Anya does..."  
"Oh, I don't know anything about their society," Anya said cheerfully, "I just know that an immortal named Duncan MacLeod tends to get a lot of curses called down upon him by jilted ex-lovers. I've personally killed him at least ten times!"  
"Right..." said Xander, "Like I was saying, if Angel knows anything about immortal society..."  
Buffy nodded faintly, her nausea fading. "Then we should go for a visit. It's only, what, a two hour drive?"  
"Well, I won't go visit him," said Anya. "I need to stay here and try to reacquire vast sums of money."  
"Can you watch Dawn?" Buffy asked.  
"I'm going with you," said Dawn.  
"Dawn..." Buffy looked at her sister for a long moment. "... Fine. Xander, can you drive us? Me and cars still don't get along."  
Xander nodded. "One round-trip to L.A., coming right up!"  
  
-----------------------------  
  
Another clear summer night hung over the idyllic town of Sunnydale. If death, horror, and things that go bump in the night could ever be considered idyllic, that is. The stars shone brightly above, even if they were a little difficult to make out on account of the local light pollution. This particular summer night found a gorgeous young blonde woman in a spectacular red dress standing outside the door of the Summers residence. Her hair was styled (she liked to be wearing wavy hair when she was killing humans), and she had even put on high heels for the occasion. Her flunkies, usually close by, were waiting in the limo that had brought her here.  
Alisoun smiled. Life was good. Tonight, she would kill the slayer, and then she'd be able to get on to the more serious business that she had come to this backwater town to attend to.  
She knocked on the door with three loud thumps of her tiny fists.  
The door shuddered beneath the impact, and she waited for someone to come and answer it.  
  
...   
Waited.  
...   
And waited.  
...  
And waited.  
...  
  
"Hello?" she called, trying to peer into the house. "Anyone home?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Her smile faded, and she tried the doorbell.  
DING-DONG.  
...   
DING-DONG.  
...  
DING-DONG.  
...  
DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DING-DONG  
  
She moved around to the front of the house to peer in through the windows. All was dark within. No movement - no one answering the door. "I show up to kill the slayer, and she doesn't even have the decency to be at home!?"  
Alisoun's eye began to twitch.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
The scooby gang reached Los Angeles at around the same time that a certain blonde-haired woman reached the Summers' residence. Smog central hadn't changed much. The stars were concealed behind the thick layer of smog, and a cool breeze was blowing in from the coast, finally cutting through the day's lingering heat. Voices drifted faintly out of the open front door of the Hyperion Hotel as Buffy, Xander and Dawn approached the entrance.  
"Lorne?" came the voice of a young woman with a Texan accent. "Lorne! Hey, it's Fred. I've been trying to get a hold of you."  
None of the scoobies could hear the response. Buffy glanced at Xander. "I like it. It's nicer than his old building. Roomier, too, from the looks of it."  
Xander shrugged. "I'm just wondering if maybe we should have called before we came down here?"  
Buffy waved her hand dismissively. "Nah. It'll be fine."  
"Lorne," came Fred's voice once more, "I know you're busy, but we really need your help. We had a lead but it, ah – kind of died. Did you talk to your connections? Have you heard anything about Angel or Cordy?"  
The scoobies exchanged looks.  
"Lorne!"  
Another voice spoke then, this time belonging to a male. "Did he have anything?"  
"No," Fred replied. "And who's fluffy? Are you fluffy?"  
"He called me fluffy?"  
"He said make sure... Wait. You don't – think he was referring to anything of mine that's fluffy, do you? Because that would just be inappropriate."  
Xander, Buffy and Dawn stepped through the open front door of the hotel. The hotel lobby somehow managed to look... comfortable. Well, minus the occult symbol that someone had unsuccessfully tried to scrub from the floor. Fred – a lovely young woman with long brown hair – stood near what had once been the hotel reception area, the phone close at hand. The source of the other voice – a young African-American man with a shaved head and a smile on his face, stood a few feet away.  
"Greetings, Fluffy – whichever one of you that may be," said Xander. The two hotel residents turned towards them with expressions of startlement. "We come in search of Mr. Tall Dark and Brooding."  
Fred exchanged looks with the young man who stood by her.  
"Angel's not in right now," said the young man, his expression guarded.  
Buffy nodded. "We heard. You might want to keep your door shut. Sound travels far."  
Fred gave an embarrassed smile. She exchanged looks with her companion, who shrugged.  
After a moment, her companion strode forward to greet their visitors. "Welcome to Angel Investigations. I'm Charles Gunn. This is Fred. How can we help you?"  
Buffy nodded. "I'm Buffy." She pointed towards Xander. "That's Xander."  
"And I'm Dawn."  
Buffy smiled faintly. "We really need to see Angel. Do you know when he'll be back?"  
Fred and Gunn exchanged looks again. Buffy got the impression that they probably did that a lot.  
"...We don't know," said Fred.  
Buffy's smile faded. "Did he leave any way of contacting him?"  
Gunn shook his head. "We haven't seen him all summer. You're Buffy?" He gave the slayer a speculative look. "As in Angel's ex?"  
Buffy nodded. "That's me," she said cheerfully.  
"Huh," said Gunn. "I thought you'd be taller."  
"People always say that. Why do they always say that?"  
"Well Buff, you gotta admit that for a Slayer, you don't have the most impressive stature."  
Buffy shot Xander a dangerous glance.  
"But what you lack in stature, you make up for in..." Xander trailed off, fumbling for words but not finding any.   
"Keep digging."  
"Hey Buffy, I'm taller than you," Dawn said with a wry smile.  
Fred laughed. "It's nice to meet y'all. Make yourselves at home. We don't get many visitors here. Except every day, I mean. But those are a little different. They're here because we help the helpless, and not just to visit." She went on like that for about a minute, leaving Xander and Buffy with incredulous looks.  
"There's two of them?" Xander asked.   
Buffy shrugged.  
"Well," said Gunn, "Like I said, we don't know where Angel is. He was last spotted over on the bluffs. But we might be able to help you anyways – what do you need?"  
"Where do you keep the books?"  
"The books?"  
"Yeah. Mystical tomes. Demonology. Spellbooks. That sort of thing."  
Gunn seemed to consider his response for a long moment. He seemed to have his doubts... but at length, he shrugged and headed off towards the office that had once belonged to Wesley. "Right this way."  
"Well, shall we hit the books?" asked Buffy.  
"Let's shall," said Xander.  
As Gunn led Buffy and Xander off to hit the books, a boy about Dawn's age came walking into the lobby, absently brushing his hair out of his eyes. He glanced at Dawn, then to Fred, and then back to Dawn, this time obviously checking her out. After a moment, he smiled.  
"Conner! Where have you been?"  
The boy – Conner - glanced at Fred. "Out."  
"We were worried."  
Conner nodded. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't run off alone. You'd think I'd know that by now."  
Fred smiled.  
Conner turned towards Dawn. "Hello," he said, doing his very best to show her a charming smile.  
"I'm Dawn," said Dawn, blushing faintly.  
"As you may have heard," he said, gesturing towards Fred (who was doing her best to look like a vaguely disapproving mother), "I'm Conner."  
"Can't say that I see any family resemblance."  
Fred looked confused for a moment, and then blushed. "Oh, no. I'm not his mother, even if I act like it sometimes. He's Angel's son."  
Conner's smile melted away.  
Dawn blinked. "Huh?"  
"Not that Angel's his mother either. Because of course Angel couldn't be his mother. That'd be Darla."  
Conner gave Fred an unreadable look.  
"How exactly can two vampires have a kid?"   
"I think it involves a dusty old prophecy, if that helps," said Gunn as he came back into the lobby. "Listen, um..."  
"Dawn."  
"Dawn, right. I got the other two set up in the other room. If you want to join them, feel free. Otherwise, I'll bet that Conner here might be willing to show you around."  
Conner nodded.  
Dawn looked towards the room where Buffy and Xander had set up, then to Conner. She smiled. "Lead the way."  
As Conner led Dawn up the grand staircase, the phone rang, and Gunn was quick to answer it.   
"Angel Investigations."  
  
------------------------------------  
  
"That's Fred's room," said Conner, pointing to the room immediately to their right as the walked down the corridors of the Hyperion hotel. "My room is over there." He pointed off in another direction.  
Dawn nodded faintly, clearly bored with the tour, but making the best of it nonetheless.  
Conner grew faintly uncomfortable. "Sorry. I'm not much good at giving tours."  
"No, it's ok! You're doing great." Dawn paused, trying to think of what to say. "So... do you have any ghosts here?"  
Conner shook his head. "Nah. I hear there was a Thesulac demon living here for a while, but they killed it before they moved in."  
"Oh, I know that one. It's like a fear demon, right?"  
"More towards the paranoia, I think."  
"Right."  
They walked on in silence for a few moments, neither one particularly comfortable with the other.  
"So... you're Angel's son. When did that happen?"  
"Less than a year ago."  
Dawn blinked. "A year ago?"  
Conner smiled wryly. "I'm not as old as I look, I guess."  
"Me neither. So what's your story?"  
"Besides being the only son of two vampires?" Conner shrugged. "Grew up in a demon dimension where time flows differently. You?"  
"Turned into a human complete with memories and a family by a couple of monks to keep this psycho-bitch named Glory from using me to destroy the world."  
"Oh," said Conner. He waited a beat before continuing. "You win."  
Dawn smiled.  
"So you're, what, Fluffy's sister?"  
"Buffy."  
"Right."  
"Yeah, she's my sister. She's cool."  
"Conner!" came Fred's voice from down the hall.  
Conner turned towards the sound of the familiar voice. "Yeah?"  
Fred approached the pair, holding a plate with two sandwiches and a glass of milk. "Brought you a snack."  
"I'm not hungry."  
"You're always hungry."  
"What is it?"  
Fred held up the plate. "Bologna. I brought one for you too, Dawn."  
"No tomatoes?" Conner asked.  
"No tomatoes."  
Dawn took one of the sandwiches. "Thanks."  
Conner reached for the tray, and Fred pulled it back. "What do you say?" she asked.  
Conner looked at Fred. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome."  
He quickly grabbed the sandwich off the tray and tore into it.  
"So how do you like the hotel, Dawn? Is Conner being a gentleman?"  
Dawn nodded, and there was laughter in her eyes. "It's pretty cool. I wish I could have seen the Thesulac demon, though. What was it like?"  
Fred shrugged. "Before my time."  
Conner looked thoughtful for a moment. "Is he still mad?"  
"What do you think?" Fred asked.  
"Sorry."  
Fred shook her head. "This boy has been through more than I can imagine," she said, speaking to Dawn. "Taken away by a vampire hunter named Holtz, and raised in a hell dimension..." She began speaking to Conner. "It must have been horrible. I know you're still hurting but – I promise, it's not nearly as much as you're gonna hurt for what you did to your father."  
Conner stopped chewing his sandwich and looked up at Fred.  
Dawn's eyes widened in shock as she watched Fred push a tazer up against Conner's chest and fire it off. Conner arced back in pain, and then fell to the ground.  
Dawn began screaming a moment later.  
  
--------------------------------  
  
"Dawn, calm down."  
"But she!" Dawn shrieked, in near hysterics. "She just jabbed him with the... for no reason! She just walked up and zapped him!"  
"Dawn," said Buffy, looking into her sister's eyes, "Conner's the reason that Angel's been missing for the past three months. He put Angel in a box and then threw him into the ocean."  
Dawn's expression was one of horror. "WHAT!? Why... why'd you let me go with him!? I LIKED him!"  
"We didn't know," said Xander. He glanced towards the office, where Gunn and Fred were interrogating Conner. "They didn't know either. At least, they better not have."  
"They got a phone call just after you went upstairs," said Buffy. "It was Wesley. You remember Wesley, right?"  
Dawn nodded faintly. "The berk. Right."  
Buffy's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. "You heard about that? Well anyways, Wesley found Angel and is bringing him here. They should be here any minute. They still don't know what happened to Cordelia, but Fred and her boyfriend are trying to get that out of Conner."  
Dawn visibly calmed, although she still seemed fairly distressed. She glanced towards the office. "... it's just... he seemed so NICE..."  
Buffy sighed. "They always do."  
The doors to the hotel opened, and in came Wesley and Angel. Except... wait, that was WESLEY? Dawn stared at the former Watcher in open shock as he strode confidently through the double doors, with one of Angel's arms draped over his shoulder as he helped the ensouled vampire down the steps into the lobby. Fred and Gunn came rushing out to meet them.  
Wesley glanced towards Fred and Gunn. "I believe you're looking for this."  
Angel raised his head weakly.  
"Angel," said Fred, her voice filled with concern. "Oh my God."  
Gunn and Fred hurried forward to help Wes take Angel over to the settee. Angel dropped onto the settee with a groan, his head rolling to the side against the headrest.  
"Buffy...?" he asked weakly.  
Wesley followed the line of Angel's gaze, and blinked. "Buffy?" he asked.  
"Wesley," said Buffy with a nod. "When did you go all Marlboro Man?"  
Wesley smiled, be it ever so faintly.  
"So is he gonna be ok?"  
Wesley nodded. "In time – maybe."  
"Buffy..." Angel called, reaching towards her.  
Buffy sat down next to him on the settee. "Long time no see," she said.  
A look of distant amazement came to rest in Angel's eyes as he stared at the Slayer. He squinted, as though trying to see her clearly. "Buffy?" he asked. He sounded as though he didn't quite believe his eyes.  
"I'm here."  
Angel visibly relaxed, and his eyes slowly drifted shut. He fell over sideways, his head in her lap. And there he rested.  
"I'm here."  
  
(END CHAPTER 3)  
  
-----------------  
  
Like it? Love it? Hate it? Tell me about it! 


	5. The Key, the Vampire, and the Karaoke De

Author's note: This chapter assumes that the reader is familiar with the Angel season four episode entitled, "The House Always Wins." The episode is the framework for the chapter in question, and it may be confusing to anyone who's never seen it. While I have included several quotes, I felt no great urge to type up the episode script word for word. With that in mind, enjoy!  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
PREVIOUSLY, ON ANGEL AND BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER  
  
--------------------------------------------------  
  
Lorne: "I thought I'd stop by and say arrivederci, Angel hair. I'm leaving for Vegas tomorrow night."  
  
Angel: "You're really going?"  
  
Lorne: "I'm really going."  
  
Dawn: "Buffy died in the hospital."  
  
Giles, cleaning his glasses: "Oh dear. Oh dear."  
  
Anya: "Congratulations, Buffy. You're immortal."  
  
Buffy: "Are you saying... that I really did come back wrong?"  
  
Cordelia, on the phone with Angel: "I sort of need to talk to you – in person."  
  
Cordy, driving in her car: "I'm late. I'm late."  
  
Skip: "What you're being called to do transcends love. You've become a higher being."  
  
Cordy: "Me?"  
  
Cordy, ascending: "I know somehow it's all going to be all right."  
  
Dawn: "Buffy, what are we going to do now?"  
  
Buffy: "I'm trying not to think about it."  
  
James, lying on the ground: "...do it."  
  
Buffy, holding a broadsword: "Do what? Listen, Jim. You're going to explain to me EXACTLY why you tried to kill me just now."  
  
James: "Now is the time of the Gathering, when those of us who are left fight until the last for the Prize. In the end, there can be only one."  
  
Buffy: "WHAT!?"  
  
Wesley: "I have no idea where Angel is, Lilah, and I really couldn't care."  
  
Wesley: "It's time. Let's go for a boat ride."  
  
James: "You can't escape from the game, Miss Summers. The Gathering is upon us. Even if I go, others will come. Some of them won't be above using your friends and loved ones to get to you."  
  
Buffy: "I won't allow that to happen."  
  
James: "You really think you can stop it? You think you can stand against the Gathering? Who do you think you are?"  
  
Buffy "I'm the Slayer."  
  
Wesley: "I believe you're looking for this."  
  
Fred: "Angel..."  
  
Buffy: "Long time no see."  
  
Angel, not quite believing his eyes: "Buffy?"  
  
Buffy: "I'm here."  
  
Angel: "What you did to me was unbelievable, Connor. But three months under the ocean actually gave me perspective. Kind of a M. C. Esher perspective - but I did get time to think. About us, about the world. Nothing in the world is the way it ought to be. It's harsh, and cruel. But that's why there's us. Champions. It doesn't matter where we come from, what we've done or suffered, or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world was what it should be, to show it what it can be. You're not a part of that yet. - I hope you will be." Angel moved to stand in front of Conner. "I love you, Connor," he said. He waited a beat, and then finished quietly. "Now get out of my house."  
  
Angel: "I need Cordy. Now."  
  
Lorne: "If I miracle ear anything, I'll send up a smoke signal. Take care of yourself and, ah, and make sure fluffy is getting enough love."  
  
Wesley: "There is someone who may know where Cordy is."  
  
Dinza: "She is far from you, champion, and needs you no longer."  
  
Angel: "I need her."  
  
Dinza: "What you seek can only be found inside the axis of Pythia."  
  
Fred: "It's an ancient relic said to be able to find souls or entities across dimensions."  
  
Angel: "Entities like..."  
  
Gunn: "Cordelia."  
  
Fred: "Do you think he found her?"  
  
Angel: "There was all this light around her, and the light seemed to be made up of pure joy. Finally I find her, and I realize she's already home."  
  
Cordy: "What are you, deficient? Get me out of here!"  
  
-----------------  
  
AND NOW...  
  
-----------------  
  
It was dark, and she was cold, and alone - or worse than alone. Dawn opened her eyes and glanced about in horror. She was suspended in a black, gooey sludge that bore no small resemblance to a mixture of motor oil and toxic waste. Its smell, its taste, assaulted her senses. Battery acid mixed with rotting food mixed with vomit. It suffused her, and everywhere she looked were hints of shapes that she couldn't quite make out. Life bubbled up within the rot, half-decayed even as it was born. A mass of teeth, an inky foot with mouths where its toes should be - A gibbering mass of feelers, corpulent half formed bodies that collapsed into corpse-rot even as they formed.  
  
She tried to scream, but no sound passed her throat.  
  
Panic and horror rising within her in equal parts, she tried to flee from the sea of blackness. She couldn't tell which way was up, and which way was down. A sickly green glow grew around her as she swam frantically, searching for some relief. "BUFFY!" she shrieked, and this time a torrent of bubbles came streaming out of her mouth.  
  
Suddenly, just as she was reaching total hysteria, she fell from the sea of blackness and landed on solid ground with a noise like vomit hitting pavement. A congeries of iridescent globes hung suspended around her, stupendous in their malign suggestiveness. Dawn peered up at the lake of filth above her, and then at the iridescent globes around her. And then she looked down at her own body.  
  
She woke up screaming.  
  
"DAWN!" came a voice from near at hand. Her eyes shot open. Her throat felt raw. There. Buffy. Her sister was peering down at her with concern in her eyes. Dawn's head spun as she struggled to orient herself. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing looked right. She focused on Buffy's eyes.  
  
Slowly, the room stopped spinning, and she curled up into a foetal ball. Buffy gathered her up into her arms. "It was just a dream, Dawn. You're safe. I'm here."  
  
Dawn began to cry.  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Quickened  
  
by P.H. Wise  
  
A Buffy crossover fanfic  
  
Chapter 4: The Key, the Vampire, and the Karaoke Demon  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
Early the next evening, Buffy closed the door to Angel's office and sat down on the chair in front of his desk. He looked up at her.  
  
"Angel, we need to talk."  
  
"About?"  
  
"The reason we came here."  
  
Angel nodded faintly.  
  
"I didn't want to bother you with this while you were still recovering, but now that you're on your feet again - well, on your feet enough to be stealing the axis of Pythea, that is – it's time. I need information.  
  
"I need to know everything you have on a creature called 'The Immortal."  
  
Angel's expression darkened considerably.  
  
Buffy smiled hopefully. "I take it the name rings a bell?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"Well, don't keep me all suspense-girl here. Who is he?"  
  
"The foulest evil hell ever vomited forth.  
  
Buffy waited for Angel to continue. After a moment, she asked, "Care to elaborate?"  
  
"... I don't like to talk about it."  
  
"What, did he nail a puppy to the door... oh wait, that was you. Come on. Tell me. What did he do? You've got me all curious."  
  
Angel mumbled something under his breath.  
  
Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I didn't quite catch that.  
  
"Darla and Drusilla. Concurrently."  
  
Buffy stared at him for a long moment. Slowly, understanding sank in to her awareness. "Oh." Full comprehension bloomed in her eyes. "OH!"  
  
She paused. "Both of them?"  
  
Angel nodded, and his expression darkened.  
  
"Simultaneously?"  
  
"He's evil."  
  
"Well, can you tell me how to get in touch with him?"  
  
Angel looked at Buffy suspiciously. "Why would you want to touch..." he paused, "GET in touch with him?"  
  
"Well, he and I have something in common."  
  
Angel's eye began to twitch. "What could you POSSIBLY have in common with the foulest spawn that ever crawled out of hell?"  
  
"Gee, I don't know. Maybe... immortality?"  
  
Angel glowered at the Slayer for a long moment. "... wait, what?"  
  
"Long story short: I died again." She waited a beat. "But then I got better."  
  
Angel pouted. "Dead, not dead, you really need to make up your mind."  
  
"Just tell me how to get in touch with the Immortal."  
  
"Hey, I'm immortal too!"  
  
"Yeah, but you're immortal in the living-dead kind of way. This guy, from what I've heard, is immortal in the immortaly kind of way."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Buffy nodded. "Exactly."  
  
Silence hung between them for a long moment.  
  
"So you're an immortal now?"  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
Buffy nodded yet again.  
  
Silence.  
  
...  
  
"So what can you tell me about immortal society?"  
  
"There IS no immortal society."  
  
Buffy frowned. "Care to explain?"  
  
"The immortals have been fighting each other for thousands of years. There IS no immortal society. If they were to gather in numbers, it would only make them targets for their enemies. I'm sure you've heard the saying, 'there can be only one?'"  
  
Buffy sighed, the sinking feeling now returning to the pit of her stomach in full force.  
  
"They've got rules, I think. I never learned what they were, but there are rules concerning their war. Buffy, some of these guys are deadly. Even to you."  
  
Buffy nodded. "I don't like it any more than you do. It gives me the wiggins just thinking about it."  
  
They looked at each other for another long moment in silence, old feelings swelling within them. At length, Angel spoke.  
  
"Buffy... there's someone new in my life. Or at least, there might be."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I have to find her. I don't know if Cordy and I really had anything, but..."  
  
Buffy spluttered. "You and CORDELIA!?"  
  
Angel flushed red.  
  
"What? It's not that bad, is it? When two people work together, sometimes feelings, um, develop..."  
  
"You know, for a dead guy, you blush pretty well."  
  
His cheeks burning, Angel turned away and started to sulk.  
  
"Don't pout, Angel," said Buffy with a wry grin. "It's not very dark and broodingish of you."  
  
Angel turned towards the door. "I know you're there," he called.  
  
Fred, Gunn and Dawn came walking into the office.  
  
"We weren't spying," said Fred.  
  
Dawn nodded her agreement.  
  
"Well, actually, we were," said Gunn.  
  
"How much did you hear?" asked Angel, a resigned look on his face.  
  
"Not much," said Fred.  
  
"So did the Immortal really do it with both Darla and Drusilla concurrently?" Dawn asked.  
  
Angel pouted (though he would deny such a charge).  
  
Gunn's lips twitched as he struggled to suppress his grin.  
  
"OK, come on. We're getting out of here." said Angel, rising to his feet and heading into the hotel lobby.  
  
The others followed him.  
  
"Not that I mind going out, but where ARE we going?" asked Dawn.  
  
Fred nodded.  
  
"Between Buffy's situation and our search for Cordelia... we're all majorly stressed out. We're going on a little retreat – the six of us."  
  
"Oh, like a spiritual journey?" asked Fred.  
  
"Woah," said Gunn, "You mean like that monastery you went to in Tibet?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Are you sure this isn't just some lame attempt on your part to distract you from the fact that this Immortal guy cuckolded you in a major way?"  
  
"..."  
  
"Actually," said Xander as he walked into the lobby, "Make that the five of you. I have to go."  
  
"Back to Sunnydale?" asked Buffy.  
  
Xander nodded. "If I want to keep my job, yes. Stupid job. When you're ready to come back home, give me a call, and I'll come pick you up. If you can't get a ride from bumpy-forehead boy, that is."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Dawn, go with Xander."  
  
"No way! I'm going to Vegas! Besides, I've got another week before school starts. It's no biggie."  
  
Xander shrugged.  
  
Buffy considered that for a moment. "... Fine."  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Angel's car raced down the desert highway, with Buffy at his side, and Dawn, Gunn and Fred in the back seat. In the distance, and rapidly approaching, was the brightly lit 'Welcome to Las Vegas' sign.  
  
"This is so cool!" Dawn squealed. "Hey, can I gamble? I bet I'd be a good gambler!"  
  
Buffy and Angel responded simultaneously. "NO!"  
  
Glittering lights flashed all around them as they entered the Strip - neon upon neon upon neon. They passed the Mirage, the Riviera, the Stardust.  
  
"Now this is my kind of spiritual retreat," said Gunn with a silly grin.  
  
"But we're here to see Lorne, right? So he can do a reading on you and Buffy?"  
  
"Absolutely," said Angel. "And maybe after that, we can check out that Danny Gans guy I keep seeing billboards for."  
  
"Lorne?" asked Buffy.  
  
"You've never met?" asked Gunn. "Well he's this demon guy who can read your future. But only if you sing Karaoke for him."  
  
Buffy and Dawn exchanged incredulous looks.  
  
"You're kidding, right?"  
  
"Apparently," Fred began, "The place he's singing at is called the Tropicana."  
  
"Wait, that can't be right..." said Gunn.  
  
Angel nodded his agreement. "Looking the way Lorne does, he'd have to be a little more... discreet than that."  
  
"Umm... how discreet, exactly?" asked Fred.  
  
Angel slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop on the side of the road... right in front of a huge billboard advertising Lorne, green, horns, velvet and all, in his exclusive engagement at the Tropicana.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Applause thundered through the room as scantily clad girls with green makeup and little red horns danced across the stage holding huge, feathery white fans. From the center of the stage, concealed by the fluttering fans, the green-skinned, velvet-suited demon rose, and began to croon.  
  
"It's not easy being green..."  
  
Buffy and Dawn, sitting at a table immediately to the right of the table shared by the fang gang, exchanged glances. "OK," said Buffy. "NOW I've seen everything."  
  
Dawn nodded faintly.  
  
They didn't catch much of the conversation going on at the other table – something about the blue man group and demons – but Buffy soon found herself drawn in by the performance. Demon or no, he was pretty darn good.  
  
As the demon in velvet finished his first song, the crowd applauded wildly.  
  
"Thank you!" said Lorne as he smiled out at the crowd. "Thank you so much! You know, I got to tell you folks, you are by far the kickingest crowd that I had the privilege of performing to here at the Tropicana." The crowd applauded. "Yes! Yes that's right. Give it up for your sweet selves. Alright! Now, you know what? Just for you guys, I think it's time we cranked things up a notch. What do you say?" More cheers. "Here you go, honey," he said as he dropped his tie into the crowd. "Yeah. Maestro, give me some drums, si'l vous plait. Ah, that's it! That's it! Paco, give me a little bass! Ah, merci, merci! Now all I need is a little help from my Lornettes!"  
  
The stage curtain opened, the girls in green came dancing out onto the stage, and Lorne launched into "Lady Marmalade."  
  
Dawn and Buffy let their voices join the crowd as they screamed and clapped wildly. And the show went on.  
  
Through the crowd he went, singing his heart out, and occasionally holding out the mic for a member of the audience to sing the next line into. The energy in the room built to a fever pitch as the demon performed, and even tall dark and brooding began to enjoy the show. Lorne sang his heart out, and the crowd loved every second of it. At one point, he held out the mic for Dawn. As she sang, poorly, into the mic, he staggered, and his eyes widened for a split second before he managed a graceful recovery and moved on. And on it went, finally ending in deafening applause.  
  
---------------------  
  
Lorne sank into the chair at his dressing room table and downed his drink in one swallow. There came a knock at the door, and Spencer – one of the guards – went to answer it, admitting Lorne's boss, one Lee DeMarco.  
  
Lorne, still shaken up from what he had seen in his performance, had no patience for the inevitable small talk. "Look, can't we do this later?"  
  
The guard produced a seating chart and handed it to Lee.  
  
"Ah, gee, I'd love to, Lorne, but you've got another show to prepare for, and I'm a busy man."  
  
"Later would be so much better..."  
  
Spencer punched Lorne full force in the stomach. The green demon dropped his glass and fell back in his chair, gasping for breath.  
  
"I think now is a good time," said Lee. "Or do you want me to pink-slip another girl from your act?"  
  
Lorne sighed.  
  
"The guy in the striped die down front on the end – two-term Nevada senator-ship in twelve years. Ah, green sweater boy, table twelve, is going to write himself into a Pulitzer. Ah, the girl over here in the blue? Vivian, chef of the future, is gonna have three five-star restaurants in the next decade."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
Lorne paled. "N-no. Nothing."  
  
Lee looked at him for a long moment. "Tell me."  
  
Lorne shook his head. "There was nothing else."  
  
"Lorne, I WILL have another one of your girls called in of you fail to cooperate," said Lee.  
  
Lorne swallowed, and there was fear in his eyes – but it wasn't fear of Lee. "You REALLY don't want to be messing with that kind of dark mojo."  
  
Lee laughed. "Why don't you let me worry about that?"  
  
----------------------------------  
  
Some fifteen minutes later, as Dawn and Buffy made their way into the hotel lobby. Dawn wanted to see the Casino, but Buffy was determined to keep her well away from it. One of the Lornettes approached them as soon as they entered the lobby and pressed a green chip into Dawn's hands, on which was written, 'play to win.'  
  
Dawn blinked. "I won something?"  
  
Buffy frowned. "She's a little too young for gambling."  
  
The Lornette shrugged at Buffy. "Don't ask me. I just work here." She turned to Dawn. "Yep. You've won the chance to play our million dollar spin-to-win. It's an exclusive game we have here as a promotion. Just talk to the security guard over by the Casino entrance, and he'll show you into the game room."  
  
The Lornette went on her merry way.  
  
"Dawn, don't even think about it."  
  
Dawn pouted. "A million dollars!"  
  
"Dawn..."  
  
"Right, right. Not thinking about it."  
  
Dawn glanced around. "So when are we going to meet this Lorne guy?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "Whenever Angel and his crew can get past security to see him, I guess."  
  
Buffy's eyes suddenly widened. That feeling that she had come to dread – the telltale sign that another immortal was near – swept over her in a wave. She glanced about, an alarmed look on her face. Her eyes met the gaze of a thirty-something man – thin, tuxedo-clad, with dark brown hair and eyes like chips of ice. He immediately turned and went down the corridor towards the ballrooms. As he turned, Buffy noticed a peculiar tattoo on his wrist.  
  
"Dawn, go back to the hotel room and wait for me there."  
  
"Buffy, wait!"  
  
But Buffy was gone.  
  
She followed him down the corridors of the hotel, and gradually they left the more populated areas behind them. He never got so far ahead that she couldn't tell where he was going, but never allowed her to catch up to him. He pushed open the double-doors of an unused ballroom and walked through.  
  
Buffy glanced about to see if anyone was looking before following, and he stood waiting for her within, sword in hand.  
  
"So how many of you do I need to beat the hell out of before you stop coming after me, anyways?" Buffy asked.  
  
The man looked at her blankly.  
  
"Ballpark figure?"  
  
He stood there for a long moment, uncertain of what exactly to do in this situation. Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as he watched her, and she got the strangest feeling that he was almost dissecting her with his eyes.  
  
At length, the man lowered his blade. "You don't have a sword," he said.  
  
----------------------------------  
  
Dawn walked into the casino, staring down at the token in her hand for the free game. Fred, Gunn, and Lorne came racing by, but she was far too engrossed in deciding whether or not to disobey her sister that she didn't actually notice. She spotted Angel at the slot machines and stopped short. If he saw her, he'd probably tell Buffy, and then she'd be in loads of trouble... She turned and walked back towards the hotel lobby.  
  
A man in a business suit stepped in front of her. "Aren't you going to play?" he asked. "It's on the house!"  
  
Dawn looked at him and shook her head, obviously annoyed. "I can't gamble. I'm not old enough."  
  
The well-dressed man laughed. "We won't tell if you won't. Or haven't you heard? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."  
  
Dawn brightened at that. "Well..."  
  
----------------------------------  
  
"Nope," said Buffy. "No sword. I'm not much for the head-cutting-off."  
  
"It's very dangerous for an Immortal to go around without a sword."  
  
Buffy gave him an odd look. "OK. I know you weren't carrying it when you came in here. So where could you possibly have been keeping that thing? And how to you hide a sword in a tuxedo, anyways?"  
  
The immortal laughed. "Very carefully."  
  
"Right. So then, are you going to attack me? Because if so, let's just get this over with."  
  
The man shrugged. "Are you going to attack me?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. That seemed to satisfy the man, as he then replaced his sword in his Tuxedo (somehow).  
  
"You REALLY got to tell me how you do that."  
  
"Perhaps some other time," he said, folding his arms. "If you're not here to challenge me, then what DO you want?"  
  
"Answers."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Your name, for starters. Who are you?"  
  
The man smiled and shrugged.  
  
"Right. Not important anyways. Not important anyways. Better question: what the hell is going on? I know that immortals are supposed to be cutting off each other's heads. I've learned that much. But what I want to know is WHY? How did this start? Who decided that we should go around killing each other?"  
  
The man's expression softened. "You're really just a newborn, aren't you?"  
  
"Yup. Newborn Buffy, that's me."  
  
The man raised an eyebrow. "Buffy?" he asked incredulously.  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"That's your name?"  
  
Buffy nodded again, her expression darkening slightly.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Did your parents hate you, or what?"  
  
Buffy's face darkened further, her anger becoming obvious even to the most clueless.  
  
"Right then," the man began, "I can't answer your questions, young one. Not really. We're fighting for the prize, certainly. And there are rules. No fights on holy ground. Duels are one on one. No dueling in public. But if you're looking for answers on how this started and why, then you're looking in the wrong place. It's always been this way."  
  
"How about this one, then? What IS the prize?"  
  
"Some say it's absolute power. Others, the collected knowledge and power of every immortal who ever lived. The latter seems more likely than the former, but no one really knows for certain."  
  
Buffy grew distressed. "So we've been fighting each other, what, since time began? Is that the history of the Immortals? An endless parade of death and horror?" She shook her head. "It isn't right."  
  
The man shrugged. "Mortal history isn't much different. But some people try to look at it in terms of right and wrong. They fight with the hope of preventing an evil immortal from gaining the Prize. But me, I know better. It's not about right. Not about wrong." He waited a beat. "It's about power."  
  
Buffy stared at the man in stunned silence, and he walked past her and opened the double doors.  
  
"Get yourself a sword, 'Buffy,'" he said as he left the room, closing the double doors behind him.  
  
Buffy stared at the doors for a long time.  
  
------------------------  
  
Gunn frowned. "You said this DeMarco guy is destroying lives. How?"  
  
"By taking them," Lorne replied.  
  
"By killing people?"  
  
"No, worse muchacho. He's been using me to read members of the audience, find those with what he calls 'valuable destinies' – power, wealth, fame, yada yada yada. Then the ones I pick they get chosen to play this spin-to-win game. Only ah, it's not a game. It's a big scamola. Then their destinies are imprinted on the chips. And that old black magic wheel is tricked out to never pay off. The house always wins, and everybody loses.  
  
"Their futures, their destinies, they get offered up to an extremely black global market, sold to anyone willing to pay big money to change his or her life."  
  
"Futures trading," said Fred.  
  
"Can't get any more literal than that, crumb cake."  
  
---------------------------  
  
Dawn entered the "Million Dollar Spin-to-Win" room to find four other people already present, sitting around a table with a spinning roulette wheel. The croupier gave her a strange look. He opened his mouth to protest the presence of a minor in a gambling establishment, but the man in the suit shook his head, and the croupier remained silent.  
  
"Here," said the well-dressed man. "Place your token on any of these squares."  
  
Dawn smiled. "OK! Here goes nothing." She placed her chip in one of the empty game spots on the table. A moment later, the wheel began to spin.  
  
Dawn watched it, fascinated. Slowly, ever so slowly, it came to a halt. It rested briefly on her square... and then moved one click more.  
  
"House wins!" the Croupier called.  
  
Dawn stared at the table, frowning ever so slightly as the croupier tried to push a bucketful of quarters into her arms (On the house! Gotta play to win!). The bucket dropped to the floor and spilled noisily. As she turned and walked listlessly out of the room, a sickly green glow erupted from her body like flames.  
  
The croupier took the chips and ran.  
  
The casino-goers screamed as she walked among them, each fleeing in a different direction. Panic spread throughout the casino as Dawn walked calmly towards a door near the back of the establishment.  
  
--------------------------------  
  
Monitors showing different security camera feeds from all across the casino lined the walls of the back room. Just above them, a readout displayed various messages. One read, 'deal with Disney new ABC series,' and another proclaimed 'fortune 500 Restauranteur.'  
  
This was the heart of the operation, where the destinies stolen in the spin-to-win game were collected, correlated, and sold. Technicians sat at the security terminals that lined the walls, and in the center of the room rested a glowing sphere, resting over the collected chips from the spin-to-win game.  
  
For a moment, all was well.  
  
For a moment.  
  
Suddenly, sickly green energy arced across the monitors, sending showers of sparks down onto the operators. The screams began a moment later. The readout went blank for a split second... and then it displayed its new message:  
  
'The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be, not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned, and to us unseen. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key and the guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Her. She knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. She knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as they tread. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where Words have been spoken and Rites howled through their Seasons. The wind gibbers with their voices and the earth mutters with their consciousness. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key.'  
  
------------------------------  
  
Meanwhile, in Lee's office – just past the back room – Lee DeMarco snarled. "I want answers, and they better be the right ones, or you're dead."  
  
Lorne, Gunn and Fred stood close at hand, with several guns pointed at each of them. Angel glanced about half-listlessly.  
  
"I know this room," he said.  
  
One of the guards struck the vampire across the chin.  
  
"Now, I'll start again," said Lee. "How do you win on that slot machine?"  
  
"I put a quarter in the slot and I pulled the little lever," said Angel, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
Lee looked at Angel for a moment before strutting imperiously to stand directly in front of him. "Are you playing games with me, vampire?"  
  
"I have to play to win."  
  
Lee glared at Angel, and silence hung heavily in the air.  
  
The silence was shattered a second later as the door swung open and a panicked man rushed into the room. "Sir, we have a problem!"  
  
The door dividing the back room from the casino proper shattered like glass. Dawn Summers walked calmly through the wreck, sickly green energy curling around her body like flames. A small chip glowing with the same energy rested in the receptacle for the stolen destinies.  
  
Lee stared wide-eyed at the chaotic mess that his casino had become. "What the hell is going on!?" His eyes traveled up to read the message being displayed above the security monitors, and his eyes widened in shock. "SHOOT HER!"  
  
His guards opened fire, spraying Dawn with a hail of bullets... all of which splashed into little bits of liquid and dropped to the floor about five feet in front of her. Pistols dropped from nerveless fingers.  
  
Gunn slammed into a guard from behind, and Fred and Lorne soon followed his example. One of the guards struck Angel, and in short order, an all-out brawl had begun.  
  
A brawl that excluded Dawn and Lee.  
  
Dawn approached the cowering little man like the footsteps of doom. When she spoke, her voice rumbled like thunder. "I know what you did. I can smell it on your hands. Did you think you could get away with it? Did you think it would never reach you? Stupid child."  
  
Lee backed away from the girl, his eyes wide with horror even as Lorne separated himself from the brawl and approached the glowing sphere that presided over the destiny chips.  
  
"Did you think I wouldn't see?" Dawn asked, "Wouldn't know? You are stained. I can see it rotting you from the inside."  
  
"Oh God," Lee whimpered, "Oh please God have mercy..."  
  
"God can't help you now." She reached for Lee DeMarco's face.  
  
At that moment, Lorne smashed the glowing sphere, and it exploded with bright light. Lorne stumbled backwards, but Fred and Gunn caught him before he could fall over. Streams of bright light shot out from the remains of the sphere, most of them flying out into the Casino. One went into Angel, and a stream of sickly green energy went into Dawn. She came to with a gasp, and the glow around her winked out. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.  
  
DeMarco whimpered.  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Dawn awoke some time later in Angel's car. Her head hurt, and she couldn't remember how she had got there. She was lying half in Buffy's lap, half on the seat. Lorne, Angel, Gunn and Fred were in the car with them as the glittering lights of Las Vegas slowly faded in the distance behind them.  
  
"How did I get here?"  
  
The fang gang exchanged uncomfortable looks, but Buffy smiled reassuringly at her sister. They hadn't explained to her exactly what had happened, but if the fearful looks they'd been giving Dawn were any indication, it probably wasn't good. "You fainted. Don't worry, though – you'll be fine. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Tired."  
  
------------------------------  
  
When Darkness comes to Sunnydale, he doesn't come alone. Beneath the clouded night sky, a fel company passed – black upon the deep shadows. A shifting. The clouds parted. The moon shone out clearly for a moment, revealing the Lady Alisoun standing before the newly completed Sunnydale High School, with several vampiric minions at her side. She grinned, and her fangs gleamed in the moonlight. "Here we are at last. Hello, Hellmouth."  
  
She entered the empty school and wended her way to the Principal's office – the spot that lay directly above the very mouth of hell. She stared down at a spot on the floor that seemed to pulse with dark energies.  
  
"Lady Alisoun," one of her flunkies began, "don't we need the blood of the Slayer for this?"  
  
Alisoun smiled wickedly. "We do. I'd have preferred to use the heart's blood of the current slayer, but lacking that..."  
  
She slashed her own wrist open with a talon-like fingernail, and dark blood gushed from the wound to splatter onto the floor. It sizzled there for a few seconds before sinking into the floor without a trace.  
  
"There we are."  
  
A mist began to rise from the floor, gradually taking on a vaguely humanoid shape.  
  
Alisoun bowed deeply, and all of her flunkies did likewise.  
  
"Master, I have come." Alisoun's eyes took on an unearthly glow. "The time of prophecy is at hand. A voice cries out in the wilderness – prepare ye the way. Now let your harbinger arise. Let the mountains be made low, and the valleys be raised up."  
  
The humanoid figure seemed to smile. Slowly it gained a measure of solidity, shaping itself into the spectral form of the disembodied First.  
  
(End Chapter 4)  
  
---------------------------------------  
  
Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know! 


	6. Disclosure

Quickened

by P.H. Wise

A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 5: Disclosure

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

-----------------------------------------

Night hung closely over the town of Sunnydale. It was early September, and the oppressive summer heat had not yet lifted, and waves of heat distortion still rose from the paved streets. At the Summers residence, however, all was well. Central Air had staved off the evils of summer heat, and although Dawn had just experienced her first day of the new school year at the newly renovated Sunnydale High, it hadn't gone too badly. There had been no invisible people, hyena people, fish people, homicidal cheerleader witches, or even preying mantis teachers. Just some run of the mill ghostly-vengeancy-spirit type activity. Well, that and Spike was insane in the basement.

They sat in the living room – Dawn, Buffy and Xander – watching movies and feasting on junk food. They had been there for a few hours now, and they had three movies left to go.

The doorbell rang.

None of them moved.

...

The doorbell rang again.

None of them moved.

...

A third time it rang. Finally, Dawn clambered to her feet and went to answer the door, grumbling faintly as the other two smiled faintly at not having to interrupt their movie watching.

A young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes was at the door, clad in the latest fashionable attire. She smiled as Dawn answered the door.

"Can I help you?" asked Dawn.

"Is this the Summers' residence?"

"Yeah," said Dawn, her tone giving the word the feeling of a question.

The blonde girl's eyes brightened. "Can Buffy come out and play?"

"... Who's asking?"

"Alisoun. I'm new in town."

Dawn nodded. "Well, she's here. Why don't you come..." she stopped short, took a step back from the door, and looked at Alisoun suspiciously. "Why don't you wait there while I go get her?"

Alisoun tried to conceal her look of disappointment as Dawn shut the door in her face. Dawn quickly returned to the living room.

"Who was at the door?" asked Buffy.

"Less talking," said Xander, "More Fist of the White Lotus."

Dawn frowned. "There's a vampire at the door."

"OK," said Buffy.

Buffy and Xander returned their attention to their martial arts movie.

A few seconds passed, and the doorbell rang for a fourth time.

"Buffy..." said Dawn.

"Give me a sec!"

"We don't have time for secs! There's..." Dawn trailed off, and both Buffy and Xander turned to look at her with strange expressions.

"OK," Dawn said after a moment of awkward silence, "That sentence didn't go where I thought it would."

Buffy nodded. "Right. So my choices are, face the vampire at the door, or keep watching Fist of the White Lotus?"

No one moved.

A few seconds passed.

"Buffy!"

"I'm thinking about it!"

-----------------

TEN MINUTES LATER

-----------------

They brought her into the ER on a stretcher. Her face was pale, her eyes distant, and she was covered in blood. She obviously wasn't long for this world, but they were doctors, and they had a job to do. Dawn and Xander had come with them in the ambulance, but were left behind in the waiting room as the medics rushed the mortally injured young blond into the operating room.

"What have we got?" the doctor asked as he put on his gloves.

"Someone ran her through with a sword."

The doctor shook his head. A SWORD? Before he could comment, the paramedic went on.

"On top of that, she's got multiple stab wounds, slashes across her right and left forearms, a broken leg, and two puncture wounds on her neck believed to be the 'calling card' of one of the local gangs that's known for abusing PCP."

The doctor nodded grimly. "Right. Let's go to work, people."

They worked frantically for the next half hour, repairing mangled tissue as best they could in an effort to save the life of their patient.

"She's bleeding out too quickly..."

"Setting her leg..."

"Shit. She's hemorrhaging."

"We're losing her!"

Buffy thrashed on the table. One of the nurses moved in to hold her down, and was thrown clear across the room for her trouble, hitting the wall with the loud crunch of a breaking bone. Shrieking in pain, the nurse clutched at her broken arm. The surgeons backed away from the flailing girl on the table, staring incredulously.

--------------------

Alisoun wore a triumphant smile as she entered yet another shrine devoted to yet another creature of purest evil. Everything was going exactly as she had planned.

"Did you see that?" she said excitedly. "I killed the Slayer. I killed the Slayer!"

Her flunky bowed. "Truly, we did not hear it the first thirty-six times that you informed us, but now, oh most magnificent Lady Alisoun, we understand. You killed the Slayer."

Alisoun nodded. "I did, didn't I? Well, ok, so maybe she wasn't DEAD when I left her, but she was at least mortally wounded. AND I got to taunt her family afterwards!"

The flunky nodded. He wasn't so sure that this was a good thing – after all, the last time something like this had happened, the world had nearly ended. And most vampires, well, they liked to talk about destroying the world, but they didn't actually MEAN anything by it. It was just talk. They liked the world just fine the way it was. Anything that brought about the end of the world... that was a bad thing in his book. Not that he would ever admit such a thing to his Lady.

"It was just so cool!" Alisoun went on, nearly jumping up and down in her excitement. "She was all, 'What is it with bad guys and swords these days? Is this the new fashion? Am I last year girl?' and I was all, slash slash smash crack stab, and she fell over with her insides hanging out! And with her dead, so dies the single greatest threat to my plans."

The flunky nodded, not mentioning the fact that from what he had seen, the Slayer had accepted impalement on the sword only to gain the opportunity to stake Lady Alisoun, and that the only reason Alisoun hadn't turned to dust was that the stake had snapped on impact.

Alisoun grinned cheerfully as she went through yet another ritual of awakening. This time she had plenty of Buffy Summers' blood, and had no need to spill her own. "Wakey wakey!" she said as she poured the blood of the Slayer over the altar.

Her flunky frowned. "Lady Alisoun, exactly how many of the Ancients are we in service to, anyways?"

Alisoun smiled brightly. "All of them, of course. See, I figured that if I sold my soul to EVERY devil, they'd be so busy fighting over it once I finally bought it that I'd just slip right past them into paradise."

The flunky thought about that for a long moment. "... But Lady Alisoun... you don't actually HAVE a soul."

Alisoun nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. Yes, I know. That always was the flaw in my plan. No matter! The body of the Eater of Souls should be ready to go by now. Now all we have to do is take it to... what was the name of that Italian town again? No matter. We take it there, wait until the planets are properly aligned, and begin the Ritual of Reawakening."

"My Lady, far be it for me to question you, but are you sure this is... well... wise?"

Alisoun glanced at her flunky. "You don't think it WISE to have the Circle of the Black Thorn in your debt?"

"Circle of the what who?"

"You remember that evil law firm in Los Angeles?"

"Huh?"

"... Forget it. Just trust me on this – it's wise."

------------------------------

The surgeon sighed as he turned away from Buffy's corpse. Abnormal strength or no, she was still dead. Not that there had been much hope to save her in the first place. He held up a small tape recorder and hit 'record.' In the background, the EKG was giving off the dull whine of a flatline.

"Time of death occurred at 11:09 PM..." He hit 'stop.'

"I'm amazed she lasted even that long," said one of the nurses. "It was pretty obvious that we couldn't do much."

The surgeon nodded, but it did nothing to lighten his mood. "I hate to lose the young ones. It seems like such a waste..." he shook his head. "Have her body taken to the morgue. I'll... try to think of what to tell her friends." He turned to leave the operating room.

The EKG beeped. And again. And again. It continued beeping, showing a strong, steady pulse. A feeling of sick fascination filled the surgeon as he slowly turned around to face the dead girl on the table.

"What the hell?" he breathed as he approached.

Most of the lacerations on the girl's body were gone, with only the deepest cuts still present. Even those were visibly healing – and NOT leaving scar tissue behind. The puncture wound on the girl's stomach and the corresponding wound on her back were still there, but were visibly closing up as little arcs of electricity shot across the ragged edges of flesh on either side of the injury. A few moments later, Buffy opened her eyes and sat up groggily.

A clipboard clattered to the floor, as the operating team stared in shock.

Buffy glanced down at herself, then at the operating team, doing her best to keep calm as she took in her situation.

"... Um... hi," she said.

For a very long moment, the operating team just stared at her. And then one of the nurses screamed. Another fainted.

"Well," said Buffy as she pulled the IV out of her wrist and went about detaching the heart monitors from her chest, "Thanks for your help, doctor. Um. Whichever one of you is a doctor, that is. Since I'm better now, I really need to be going."

THAT certainly set them into a frenzy.

"Wait!" said the surgeon, striding forward, "You can't just leave! Not after this... miracle! If this kind of healing can be duplicated, can you even imagine the possibilities!?"

Buffy ignored the man. "Can I get my shirt and bra back?" she asked. "And maybe something to clean up all this blood?"

Everyone stared.

Buffy grew a little bit annoyed. "Hey! Shirt! Bra! Where are they?"

At length, one of the nurses responded. "You were... we had to cut the shirt off of you, and..."

Buffy grimaced. "Fine. Get me a hospital gown, then."

A nurse – a male one this time – retrieved one for her, trying not to stare.

Buffy looked down at the blood covering her, shrugged, and put the hospital gown on. It was very quickly stained with blood, but she didn't much care about that. She could shower when she got home. She rose from the operating table.

"Wait!" said the surgeon. "You can't just leave!" He glanced frantically towards his coworkers. "She can't just leave!"  
Buffy left.

The doctors weren't going to give up just yet, however. The surgeon was quick to pick up the phone from its receiver on the wall. "Security!" he barked into the handset, "We have a situation in operating room three..."

A minute later, Buffy stepped through the double doors that led into the waiting room, leaving two unconscious security guards in her wake. Dawn and Xander rose to their feet as she entered the room.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

Dawn nodded, and Xander said nothing, though he looked as though he had something he wanted say.

"You guys in the mood to finish the movie? I think Hong Wen-Ting was about to have his big showdown with Pai Mei..."

They left.

Later, in front of the Summers home, Xander sat on the porch. Dawn had gone in, but Buffy stopped at the door and glanced at Xander.

"What?" she asked.

"What what?" he replied.

Buffy gave him an odd look, but after a moment, elaborated on her 'what.' "Ever since we left the emergency room, you've totally had this 'I have something to say' look on your face. So, what's up?"

"Nothing."

"Oh." Buffy shrugged, and headed inside. As she was closing the door behind her, Xander spoke up.

"Buffy, wait."

Buffy stopped short, and came back onto the front porch, looking at Xander expectantly.

"... what you did when you fought off that vampire..."

"Yes?"

"Buffy, you can't be so willing to die to defeat an enemy."

Buffy frowned. "Huh?"

"I saw what happened. You let her stab you so that you could stake her."

"How is that a problem?"

"Buff, you DIED."

"I'm immortal now, Xander. I can't die. Well, not permanently, anyways, unless you go for the head chopping thing."

Xander nods. "Yeah, but we're NOT."

Buffy's frown deepened.

"Me, Dawn, neither of us are immortal. Neither is Giles, or even Willow, for all the world-endingly-powerful that she's gotten. And the things we fight usually don't travel alone. If you sacrifice yourself to take down a powerful enemy in the middle of a brawl, we're all gonna be left to fend for ourselves until you come back to life. And most of us don't have superpowers. Not to mention that your little gamble – trading your life for hers – didn't even work!"

A jokingly petulant tone crept into Buffy's voice. "It WOULD have worked if Mr. Pointy hadn't betrayed me like that."

Xander smiled faintly. "Well, Mr. Pointy was several years old - plenty old enough to have rotted through. It was his time."

Buffy pouted.

"I'm serious, Buff. You can't be taking that kind of risk. You can't protect us when you're dead, even if it IS only temporary. Not to mention – what do you think those doctors are gonna do now that they've seen you heal like that?"

Buffy nodded. "I know. I guess I'm just still trying to deal."

Xander smiled. "Me too."

"So tell me, why'd you call an ambulance when you knew I was immortal and would get right back up after dying?"

Xander blinked. "... I didn't, Buff."

"Dawn, then." Buffy grew annoyed. "As if she wasn't getting on my nerves enough already..."

"Nah, it wasn't her either. We both know better than that."

Buffy frowned. "So if it wasn't Dawn, and it wasn't you..."

"And this being Sunnydale, it couldn't POSSIBLY have been a concerned neighbor who had spotted you fighting a sword-wielding vampire on your front lawn."

"They've never noticed that sort of thing before, why would they notice now?"

Xander nodded sagely. "Guess we're out of options, then. It MUST be part of some evil plot."

Buffy nodded. "Evil Rescue 911 cultists."

----------------------------------

The sun peaked through the smog cover early the next morning – there hadn't been much in the way of breezes as of late, and the ever present yellowish cloud that hovered above the entire Los Angeles area was thicker than it usually was. Still, Sunnydale seemed pleasant enough in the morning light, provided one didn't look at the horizon. After all, the sky looked blue if you were looking straight up, and Sunnydale wasn't a bad looking place for a Hellmouth. The only thing that really seemed out of place this particular morning was the bloodcurdling shrieks that came from the Summers home. Or was that normal after all?

It was Dawn, naturally. She woke up screaming, bolting out of her bed and into the corner of her room, dragging her sheets along for the ride. When Buffy came rushing into the room, Dawn was looking down at herself with an expression of horror and amazement mixed in equal parts.

"DAWNIE! Dawnie, are you ok!?"

Dawn looked up at Buffy, her face pale. "Do I still have human parts?" she asked, her voice a near whisper.

Buffy gathered her sister into a comforting embrace. "It was just a dream, Dawnie. Just a dream."

"It didn't feel like a dream."

Buffy sighed. Tara would have known what to do in a situation like this. A deep sadness settled over her at the thought. There was eternal life on earth, but not for Tara. She was gone.

Still... the thought of the late blonde witch did give Buffy an idea, and she smiled in spite of herself. "Well, how about we go to the store and pick up some pancake mix? I don't think I can manage rounds, though. All Buffy-cakes are funny shapes."

Dawn smiled faintly.

As they made their way to the store, Buffy's worries for her sister grew. Her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she had had with Angel and his crew before they had left Los Angeles.

--FLASHBACK--

"Buffy."

Buffy turned around to face the ensouled vampire. "Angel," she replied.

"Buffy," he said, placing his arms on her shoulders. "You and I really shouldn't – you know, with Cordelia still missing, and me not having sorted things out with her – we really can't afford to do anything right now."

Buffy nodded. "Right," she said. "That would be bad."

Angel's hands slid down her back to her waist, and he pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around him, and they looked deeply into each other's eyes.

"And we wouldn't want to do anything... bad."

Angel nodded his agreement, and they kissed passionately. "It would be a mistake to rush into anything."

Buffy began to unbutton Angel's shirt, and she slipped the straps of her dress off of her shoulders. A few seconds later, they were on the bed, their passion growing ever more intense, and then...

--END FLASHBACK--

Wait. That hadn't happened. That had just been a fantasy she'd had. Buffy's cheeks flushed with heat.

Dawn looked at her suspiciously. "What are you blushing about?"

"Nothing!"

"Uh huh."

What had ACTUALLY happened, was that Gun, Fred, and Lorne had told her what had happened in the back room of the casino. Or more specifically, what had happened to Dawn.

"Little sis isn't going to be little for much longer, sugar-puff," Lorne had told her. "There's some seriously dark mystical mojo going on there, and if she doesn't make it through, the rest of the world won't be far behind."

Unfortunately, for all that she was worried about her sister, Buffy had no idea what to actually DO about it. Hitting the books was always a tried and true thing to do. And that'd be great. Except the books were mostly destroyed.

She had sung for Lorne herself, in the car on the way back from Vegas. Her path would be very difficult, yadda yadda yadda. There'd be trials and tribulations, triumphs and defeats. But that wasn't what was bothering her (Of course not). What was bothering her was that she didn't know what to do with her newly increased life expectancy. But! She shouldn't worry! Because worrying only gave you gray hairs! ... Or wait, maybe it was that she had to find the path before she could walk it, and that would come in time. Whatever. Suffice it to say, she didn't think much of Angel's demon friend.

Buffy and Dawn went the rest of the way to the supermarket without much in the way of incident. In short order, they had purchased both pancake mix and milk (which they were all out of), and made their way to the lines. And that was when they saw the tabloid headlines.

'GIRL MIRACULOUSLY RETURNS TO LIFE!' the National Enquirer boldly proclaimed, a picture of Buffy displayed prominently on the cover.

Buffy dropped the milk, but Dawn caught it before it could hit the ground.

Another tabloid had a before/after the miraculous recover photo of Buffy, with the headline, 'DOCTORS SAY MIRACLE GIRL COULD BE KEY TO IMMORTALITY!' Yet another one declared, 'FBI SENDS AGENTS TO INVESTIGATE MIRACLE GIRL!'

Buffy went pale, and she felt a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She stuffed a handful of bills into Dawn's hands to let her pay for the milk and the pancake mix before rushing over to the more respectable newspapers. Quickly, she flipped them through, looking for any reference to the story she'd seen in the tabloids.

Nothing.

The Slayer let out a faint sigh of relief. All the same, as they headed home, Buffy couldn't help but feel as though she was being watched.

She tried to tell herself that nobody took the tabloids seriously.

It didn't help.

She shook her head. Now wasn't the time to worry about that. Now was the time to worry about burning the pancakes.

And about an hour later, a handsome man, thirty-something, with intense eyes and dark hair tied back in a ponytail stopped in front of the tabloid stand just in front of the registers. His mouth thinned dangerously as he read the headline. He paid for the paper and left the store.

END CHAPTER 5

-----------------------------

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know. But most importantly, let me know specifically what it is you like/love or hate and why. :)


	7. The Education of Duncan MacLeod

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 6: The Education of Duncan MacLeod

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Highlander. I don't own Angel. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

-----------------------------------------

At the offices of Wolfram and Hart, a group of... I hesitate to call them 'people...' well, a group of them sat around a wooden table in a fairly Spartan conference room. An attractive thirty-something named Lilah Morgan sat at the head of the table, with Gavin at her side. The others at the table watched her expectantly, a mixture of fear and respect in their eyes.

"Gavin," said Lilah, glancing at the handsome young oriental man at her side. "Care to explain why you felt it necessary to request an emergency meeting?"

All eyes turned to the young man, who cleared his throat and placed a tabloid newspaper on the table.

'GIRL MIRACULOUSLY RETURNS TO LIFE!' the headline proclaimed with a picture of the Slayer – Buffy Summers – displayed prominently on the cover.

Lilah smiled, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant smile. "You requested an emergency meeting to deal with a tabloid headline?"

Gavin shook his head. "No Ma'am."

He produced a thick file filled with papers and placed on on top of the paper. It hit the table with a surprisingly loud 'whoomp.'

"This is our file on Buffy Summers, one of the two current Slayers" He removed several copies of a paper from the file that he had set aside for this purpose earlier.

One of the others – a middle aged man in a business suit – frowned. "Slayers? Plural?"

"Long story."

Lilah smirked. "Miss Summers drowned. Another Slayer was called. Miss Summers was then revived via CPR."

Gavin grimaced. "But apparently not that long." He handed copies of the paper to everyone at the table. "Now, take a look at this. Buffy Summers died – in the permanent sense - in the spring of 2001. She came back to life some three months later. Now, as was mentioned, she's died before, which is probably why her second death and subsequent recovery was not initially remarked upon. But this report... this was available six months ago. I'm surprised that Linwood never did anything about this."

"I'm not," said Lilah.

The others laughed politely.

Gavin waited for Lilah's nod before continuing.

"According to this report provided by our mystics division, Willow Rosenberg cast the Spell of Life to resurrect the Slayer."

The eyes of the others in the meeting room widened. Silence hung in the room for a long moment before any of the department heads at the meeting summoned up the courage to speak.

"Are you telling me," another man - Mr. Veras - began, "That a child playing at witchcraft from some insignificant mall town successfully invoked Osiris?"

Gavin nodded. "Miss Rosenberg is hardly a child 'playing at witchcraft.'. At present, she is the single most powerful witch in the western hemisphere."

"But... how the hell did she get her hands on the last Urn of Osiris!?"

"Apparently, she bought it on Ebay."

"EBAY!?"

Gavin nodded.

"Mr. Veraz," said Lilah, "Control yourself."

Mr. Veraz went pale, and then nodded faintly.

"How is this significant?" a woman named Robertson asked.

Gavin and Lilah exchanged looks.

"I'm sure we're all familiar with the Children of Osiris," said Lilah. At the nods of the others, she continued.

"The Spell of Life is ancient, forbidden magic. In theory, it can be used to resurrect a deceased human being by linking their spirit to the Quickening, effectively transforming the human in question into a Child of Osiris."

She glanced at Gavin and gave him a nod.

Gavin picked up where she had left off. "According to our records, the spell has been attempted many times. But it's never actually worked before. In every instance ever recorded of its use, it has resulted in the deaths of those who attempted to cast it."

"But Rosenberg succeeded."

"Yes. We're not entirely sure how, but she and her friends succeeded in their casting of the spell."

Silence reigned in the boardroom for a long moment.

"Meaning... the Slayer is now Immortal."

Robertson let out a long, hissing breath, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "It never rains, but it pours."

The others looked to Lilah, waiting for her orders.

"I'm sure you're all aware of the seriousness of this situation. Gavin, I want you to inform the Circle. I'll have messages sent to the Senior Partners." She glanced at the others. "The rest of you, get back to work. I need the information we took from that green friend of Angel's cracked as soon as possible. This meeting is adjourned."

--------------------------

It was late, and Buffy was tired. It had been a very long day, and her mind was still whirling. Spike. A soul. For her. She didn't want to think about it, but it seemed that she couldn't think of anything else.

"Angel," he had said, "He should have warned me. He makes a good show of forgetting, but it's here in me... all the time. The spark. I wanted to give you what you deserve. And I got it. They put the spark in me... and now all it does is burn."

Buffy shook her head. She was nearly home, and wanted nothing better than to take a nice, relaxing shower, and go to bed. She could think about this in the morning. Unfortunately, it would be a long time before she was afforded such a luxury. As she arrived in front of her home, the increasingly familiar crawling pressure that signaled the presence of another immortal came thundering into her awareness.

There.

A man with intense eyes and long dark hair tied in a ponytail was standing in her front yard, waiting for her.

"Are you Buffy Summers?" he asked, a hint of a Scottish accent in his voice.

Buffy sighed wearily. "Look, I'm not interested in taking your head, and I'm not about to let you take mine, so why don't you just come back some other time? A few hundred years from now, maybe?"

The man smiled faintly at that. "I'm not here for your head."

"Then why are you here?"

The man stepped out of the shadows and into the light that streamed from the light on the porch. "I'm here for a lot of things." He held up a copy of one of the tabloids from the Supermarket, on which the headline, 'DOCTORS SAY MIRACLE GIRL COULD BE KEY TO IMMORTALITY!' was prominently displayed.

Buffy tried not to cringe. "Well, you know tabloids. You can't believe a word of it."

The man nodded. "So I hear. This kind of carelessness will attract attention, Miss Summers. Unless you want every Immortal in the country coming for your head, I'd suggest you keep a low profile, though it may already be too late for that." He shrugged.

"Who are you?"

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod"

"What do you want?"

"To help you. You've got a lot to learn about being immortal.

Buffy smiled wryly. "Uhuh. Do you have anything worth living for?" (1)

Duncan blinked. "Huh?"

Buffy's smile widened ever so slightly. "Nothing."

She'd been hanging out with Xander WAY too much.

---------------------

SEVERAL WEEKS EARLIER

---------------------

Duncan MacLeod sat at a stool in Joe Dawson's blues club in Seacouver. Joe poured him a drink and sat down at his side.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

Joe took a sip of his beer. "What, can't I invite you to come down and have a drink without an ulterior motive?"

Duncan nodded pleasantly. "Sure you can. But you didn't. So spill. What's the story?"

Joe smiled. "... There's this girl."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Forget it. That kind of story never ends well."

"Nah, hear me out. Her name is Buffy Summers, and she's like a daughter to an old friend of mine."

"So, what's the problem?"

"She just became Immortal."

"Does this friend of yours happen to be a Watcher?"

Joe nodded. "Rupert Giles. He's with one of the other branches of the Watcher's Council."

"Other branches?"

"Well, you didn't think that recording the history of Immortals was the ONLY thing we did, did you?"

Duncan shrugged. "Well, yeah."

Joe laughed. "As interesting and as important as you people are, the world doesn't revolve around Immortals."

He paused a moment, looking closely at the Highlander. "It's a little bit hard to explain, but she's a newborn immortal, and she needs a teacher."

"And you thought you could send me?"

"I was hoping, yeah."

"I'm not an errand boy, Joe."

"I know you're not. I just... if someone doesn't train her, she's going to lose her head. Can you do this? As a personal favor?"

Duncan looked at Joe for a long moment. "What aren't you telling me?"

"... She lives on the Hellmouth."

Duncan laughed. "Very funny. Really, what aren't you telling me?"

Joe shrugged.

"... You're not joking." It wasn't a question.

"No."

END FLASHBACK

----------------

Buffy waited as the phone rang again and again. "Come on, Giles," she murmured into the receiver, "Pick up. It's gotta be daytime there if it's night here..."

Duncan had been left waiting on the porch while Buffy called Giles to confirm his story. The phone rang again. And again. And then, finally, there came the distinctive click of the phone being answered on the other end, followed by the voice of the man who had become like a father to her.

#Hello?#

"Giles, it's me."

#Buffy? It's good to hear from you. How are you?#

"I'm good, I guess, but that's not why I called. When you left, you said you would send someone to help me. What was the name of the person that you sent?"

Buffy paused, listening to Giles' response.

"Ok," Buffy went on, glancing towards the porch, "And what did he look like?"

Another pause as Giles responded.

Buffy 'hmmed.' "OK. He's here."

#Ah yes,# came Giles' voice, #Very good then.#

There was a brief pause.

"How's Willow doing?"

#Very well, actually. Well enough that I'm going to be sending her back to Sunnydale in a day or two. I've got her flight number and arrival time written down here somewhere...#

Buffy smiled. She quickly retrieved a pen and a piece of paper and took down the information.

"Thanks, Giles. Send Willow our love."

#Of course.#

"OK, one more thing: do you know anything about a vampire called 'Lady Alisoun?' Way stronger and faster than normal, and with a tendency to switch between Glory-speak and bizzaro barely English?"

silence

"Giles?"

#...Oh dear.#

"So you've heard of her?"

#I have. Buffy, it is extremely important that you not try to defeat her by yourself. Alisoun is quite possibly the single most dangerous vampire in the world.#

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that when she showed up at my house and killed me."

#She was able to enter your house?#

"No. She called me out."

#Are you alright?#

"Fine. It only hurts... well, every time, actually."

#Yes. Right. I will send the information I have on Lady Alisoun with Willow.#

"Why not just tell me over the phone?"

#Because several of the spells needed to unlock the information can only be cast on the Hellmouth.#

"Oh."

#Be very careful, Buffy. Until Willow arrives and you find a way to defeat ALisoun, you MUST not engage the vampire in combat again.#

"Come on, Giles. No matter how strong she is, she's just a vamp. What's the worst that could happen?"

#The end of the world.#

"...Oh."

-------------------------

Alisoun peered down into the wooden coffin. It was worse tonight than it was most nights - the stars could not be seen through the smog cover, and it took only a few minutes of walking outside to feel as though you needed a shower. Being a vampire, however, it didn't particularly bother her.

"You know," she said as she studied the body that they had recovered from the last ritual site, "Except for that minor case of decapitation that he's got going on, I think he looks pretty good."

Her flunkies were quick to voice their agreement.

"He looks kind of dead," said Bob, her most trusted vampiric flunky.

Alisoun nodded. "He IS kind of dead."

"Oh."

Bob waited a beat.

"Well, if he's kind of dead, how exactly are we going to awaken him? Don't these creatures tend to kind of... die... when you cut off their heads?"

"Don't be silly. He's only KIND OF dead. He's not COMPLETELY dead."

"But his head's off!"  
Alisoun nodded. "So it is! Don't you worry! He'll wake up good as new once we perform the ritual of Reawakening." She frowned. "Didn't I say that already?"

Bob nodded faintly. "I believe you mentioned something along those lines."

Her flunkies placed the lid on the coffin and quickly nailed it shut.

"So his name is Eater of Souls?"

Alisoun nodded.

"Why did they call him that?"

Alisoun LOOKED at Bob, thoroughly nonplused.

"... Oh. Right."

Bob and three other vampires seized the coffin, then, and carried it over to the back of a pickup truck that was parked on the street nearby. Carefully, they set it down in the bed.

The sound of running feet announced the approach of yet another of Alisoun's flunkies. Panting for breath (he was a fledgling, and it hadn't quite occurred to him that he didn't need to breathe), the vampire skidded to a stop at his Lady's feet. "Lady Alisoun, I bring news most dire!"

Alisoun frowned. "Continue."

"The Slayer is alive!"

Alisoun's frown deepened.

-------------------------

Duncan sat on the couch in the Summers' living room, taking in the sights of the place his newest student called home. It was... nice. The house had character. As Buffy walked in, two cups filled with ice water in hand, Duncan's attention was drawn to the few pictures that graced the living room. He reached for one of them – a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a gentle smile.

"Find anything interesting?" Buffy asked, handing one of the cups to Duncan. He took it and set it on a coaster on the coffee table.

"Who's this?" he asked, holding up the picture.

Sadness settled into Buffy's eyes. "My mom."

Duncan nodded. "You were adopted?"

Buffy gave Duncan an almost offended look. "No." Her tone said far more than the word – his question bothered her.

Duncan looked at the picture for a long moment, and then at Buffy, taking in the very clear family resemblance. His expression grew troubled, but he said nothing.

Buffy took a sip of her water. "So, tell me about yourself, Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. How do you know Giles?"

"I don't. I know Joe Dawson. He knows Giles."

"Oh. Is he a Watcher?"

Duncan blinked. "You know about Watchers?"

Buffy nodded. "Duh. Giles has been training me since I was sixteen."

"Why would a Watcher train a pre-immortal? They observe and record. They're not supposed to interfere." Duncan paused a moment. "Not that they ever actually hold to that..."

"Giles wasn't training a pre-immortal. He was training the Slayer."

Duncan blinked. "Slayer?" he asked.

Buffy grinned.

Duncan waited for an explanation, but Buffy wasn't in an explaining mood. She was more for asking questions.

"So how long have you been around?" she asked.

"A while."

"Cryptic AND unhelpful. You're not a Watcher, are you?"

Duncan laughed at that, but said nothing.

Buffy shook her head. "Hoo boy."

Buffy and Duncan talked long into the night, and Buffy was told once more what an Immortal was, and what they were fighting for. The Game, the Gathering, the Prize, and what it meant to live as an immortal.

She questioned him closely on where exactly Immortals had come from, and why they were here, and how the Game had begun, and why, but he had only shaken his head and confessed that he didn't know the answers to those questions. He had lived for a very long time. He knew others who had lived for much longer. None of them had found any answers. All they really knew was that when one immortal took the head of another, to the victor went the power.

"Power..." said Buffy.

"What?"

"That's what the other Immortal said. The one I met in Vegas."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Skinny guy, tuxedo-clad, dark hair, funny tattoo on his wrist. He told me that it's not about right. Not about wrong. It's about power."

Duncan tried to conceal his look of recognition at that description. "Well," he said, "What do you think it's about?"

Buffy shrugged. "I don't care. I don't want any part in it. I'm not about to spend my life cutting off other people's heads."

Duncan smiled sadly. "You'd better find Holy Ground, then. Otherwise, they'll come for you. You might have avoided it if you hadn't been splashed on the tabloids, but your little stunt at the hospital is going to attract the attention of headhunting Immortals."  
"Yeah, that..."

"Have the FBI agents showed up yet?"

Buffy blinked. "FBI agents?"

"Didn't you see the headline? FBI sends agents to investigate miracle girl?"

"Oh."

"A word to the wise: try not to wake up on any more hospital beds. If you die, you're going to have to be prepared to leave your life behind and move on."

Buffy frowned. "I have responsibilities... my friends, my sister, my duties as Slayer..."

"How many responsibilities will you have in a government lab as some scientist's guinea pig?"

"Just as many as I'd have here. Only there, the guards would be standing between them and me."

"And what will you do if they hurt your friends and your sister in order to ensure your cooperation?"

"I'll start breaking bones until they agree to let them go."

Duncan shook his head. Obviously, this one would have to learn the hard way. He only hoped it didn't get her killed.

And so it went, until Duncan finally left for his hotel at about 3:00 AM.

--------------------------

The smog was thicker the next day – so thick that the sun barely peaked through at all. Even so, the weatherman on the local news program was for-casting a change to come soon – severe windstorms were due in the near future, which would probably be blowing dust and sand over just about everything. But until then, it was smog. Oh, the joys of living in the Los Angeles area.

Heedless of the smog, Buffy and Duncan stood in the back yard of the Summers residence, swords in hand. Dawn sat with her back to the closed kitchen door, watching the pair. When Buffy had explained who Duncan was and why he was here, Dawn had enthusiastically demanded that she be trained as well, at least in the sword fighting. It could be useful on patrol, after all. Duncan had been reluctant, but once Buffy had thought about it (and cast aside her gut instinct to tell Dawn 'no'), she had told Duncan in no uncertain terms that if Dawn didn't get training, she wasn't going to train either. Dawn had already received her lesson, and it was Buffy's turn now.

"Try not to break him, Buffy! He's kinda cute," said Dawn.

Duncan didn't react.

Dawn arched an eyebrow. "Not very bashful, either."

Buffy smiled wryly. "I'll see what I can do."

They stood facing off against each other, Duncan with his katana, and Buffy with her sword – the same sword that Angelus had pulled from Acathla. Her own sword had been sent to hell with Angel, but his she had kept.

Buffy and Duncan moved smoothly into battle, a flurry of clashing swords and ringing steel. Sparks flew where their blades met. There was nothing particularly fancy in their movements – nothing but good, solid sword work.

As they sparred, Duncan raised an eyebrow. "You've studied swordplay." He slashed, and she parried.

Buffy nodded, forcing Duncan back a few steps with a few solid thrusts before his parry and subsequent counter-attack forced her to give up the ground that she had gained. "A little. I haven't practiced in a while, though. I'm more partial to the crossbow."

Amazement flashed across Duncan's face. "You're holding back!"

Buffy grinned. "So are you."

With an unspoken agreement, both of them raised the skill level of the battle. They moved in increments, each one testing the new skill level of the other before increasing it, and repeating the process. After several minutes, the Highlander was going all out against the Slayer, and still neither one gained the advantage. And then Buffy brought her full strength to bear.

They darted towards one another and their blades clashed violently. Although Buffy wielded her sword one handed against Duncan's two, he was the one who found his sword being forced backwards. Buffy slammed the locked blades into Duncan's chest, and then brought her other hand around to punch him in the stomach.

The Highlander's eyes widened as the force of the punch blasted the air from his lungs. He went flying into the fence, some twenty feet away.

As Duncan tried to collect what little remained of his pride, Buffy exchanged high fives with Dawn.

"So how'd I do, teach?"

Duncan coughed, holding his cracked ribs. The fact that they would heal very quickly didn't make them hurt any less. "... All that from 'a little' study?" he asked.

Buffy nodded. "What can I say? I'm the Slayer."

"... You've said that before. What, exactly, is the Slayer?"

Buffy blinked. She planted her sword in the soft grass at her feet. "Giles sent you here to train me and he didn't tell you what the Slayer is?"

"Giles didn't send me. Dawson did, on Giles' behalf."

Buffy and Dawn exchanged glances.

"Right. Well it goes like this..."

So they told him. One girl in all the world. Chosen. She alone will stand against the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer. They told him the whole deal. If he had not seen her superhuman abilities first hand, he never would have believed it. As they explained, Duncan listened with a feeling of dread. A newborn Immortal with superhuman strength, speed, agility, endurance AND skill was NOT a good thing. Her powers would only increase as she began taking heads - and she WOULD take heads, he knew that. For all that she protested it, she would. Nobody liked the idea of cutting off heads at first. Not unless something was wrong with them, that is. But that was the way the world was, and the sooner she accepted the world the way it was, the sooner she'd be able to cope.

God only knew she'd need to cope.

END EPISODE 06

---------------------------

Next: It hits the fan. Buffy tries to balance her family and friends with Slaying, training, AND the Game, little realizing that apocalypse season is right around the corner!

1 – If you get the reference, you get a cookie.

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know. But most importantly, let me know specifically what it is you like/love or hate and why. :)


	8. Rain of Fire

Author's note: This chapter assumes that the reader is familiar with the both the Angel season four episode entitled, "Apocalypse Nowish" and the Buffy season seven episode "Same Time, Same Place." The episodes are the framework for this chapter, and it may be confusing to anyone who's never seen them. While I have transcribed several sections that I feel are relevant to the telling of my story, I felt no great urge to type up the scripts word for word. Also, yeah, I fudged the timeline a teeny bit. With that in mind, enjoy!

* * *

PREVIOUSLY, ON ANGEL

* * *

Fred: "I've been asked to present my article at the Physics Institute."

Professor Seidel: introducing Fred to an audience "Winifred Burkle."  
Fred: "Thank you, Professor."

Fred: "Professor Seidel. He sent me to Pylea."

In Professor Seidel's laboratory, Fred points her crossbow Professor Seidel, who frantically scrambles to escape from the portal that Fred has opened.  
Gunn bursts into the laboratory. "If you kill him, I'm gonna lose you."  
Gunn breaks the Professor's neck, and pushes him into the portal.

Angel: "Cordelia?"  
Cordelia: "Who are you people?"

Angel: "She just showed up with no memory, no idea who she is or where she's been."

Angel: "Pick a song."  
Gunn: "You sing, and he sees your future."  
Cordelia begins singing very badly. "Because the greatest... love of all is easy to achieve..."  
Lorne's eyes widen.

Lorne: "What I saw was jumbled. Evil's coming, Angel, and it's planning on staying."

Cordelia, speaking to Conner: "Can you get me out of here?"  
Connor offers his hand.

Angel: "She's with Conner. My son."

Angel: "Wolfram and Hart were after what Lorne saw when she sang."  
Fred: "They sucked it out of his head?"  
Angel: "How much did they get?"  
Lorne: "All of it."

Lorne: "I found a memory spell guaranteed to bring our Cordy back to the way she was."

Angel: "Were we in love?"  
Cordelia, her voice filled with sadness: "We were."

* * *

AND NOW...

* * *

It had been a long day for Angel Investigations. A long, fearful day, filled with portents of doom and peculiar occurrences, both natural and supernatural. At the Hyperion Hotel, Lorne, Gunn and Wesley sat gathered round a paper-covered coffee table. Hundreds of sheets of paper, every one of them covered in mystical symbols. Nearby, Angel paced impatiently.

"That's everything that Wolfram and Hart could decipher from what they took out of Lorne," said Angel.

"They just handed these over?" Wesley asked.

Angel smiled faintly. "Lilah – she can be very giving."

"You trust her on this?" asked Gunn.

"No, but she's got an interest in stopping the end of the world before it ruins Wolfram and Hart's end of the world, so..."

Gunn gave him a strange look. "Right. OK, what's the plan?"

"You're holding it." The ensouled vampire took a seat on the couch next to Gunn. "We figure out what all this means, then we do something large and violent."

"I can see you've given this considerable thought," Wesley commented dryly.

Lorne held up a handful of papers. "So all of this came out of my head? No wonder it made me greener."

Angel shrugged. "If Wolfram and Hart hadn't extracted it, you'd be a paler shade of dead."

"Yeah, well, remind me to send 'em a fruit basket." The phone rang, and Lorne stood up, and headed over to the front desk to answer it. "Saved by the continuous bell."

"You've been logging the calls?" asked Angel.

"Every last squishy one."

Angel nodded. "Grab a map and start marking the locations. See if they're concentrated in any one area." He glanced at Wes and Gunn. "Whatever's happening, whatever Cordy's seen, the answers are in these pages. We need to figure this out."

* * *

A short time later..

* * *

Gunn gestured towards the pile of papers that he had arranged. The arcane symbols on the papers formed a square with an X within. "OK, so what the hell is this?"

Angel and Wesley's eyes widened.

"The eye of fire."

Wesley nodded. "Ancient alchemical symbol for fire."

Angel grimaced. "And destruction."

"You had me at fire," said Gunn.

Lorne held up the map he had been working on. "Um, boys? I hate to be the little demon that cried apocalypse nowish, but, uh..." He gestured to the map, having plotted the locations of each disturbance with a red dot. The dots formed a square with an X through it encompassing most of the San Fernando valley. "Looks like X marks the spot. So what are we gonna do, sports fans?"

Gunn scooped up his axe from where it lay on the floor. "What we always do."

Angel nodded as he rose to his feet. "Time to save the day."

* * *

Quickened

by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 7: Rain of Fire

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money. 'Apocalypse Nowish' was written by Stephen S. DeKnight. 'Same Time, Same Place' was written by Jane Espenson.

* * *

'Well,' Willow thought as she peered out the window from her seat some two rows behind the wings on the 747, 'At least I can watch the landing. Sort of.'

The 747 was on its final approach to the Sunnydale airport, just now passing through the cloud-like smog cover. Willow watched as the last stars vanished, replaced by the thick gray noxious soup of home. She sighed.

Her diary was open in her lap. She'd been keeping it ever since she had arrived in England, and in the few moments she wasn't spending worrying about whether or not her friends would accept her back, she was wondering if she'd ever write in it again.

She absently flipped the pages.

_'It's something, isn't it? One tiny piece of metal destroys everything. That's what I told Warren before I... before... it happened. One tiny piece of metal took her away from the world – from me. I wonder what Warren felt like at the end? I wonder if he's in Heaven like Buffy was? I hope he's in hell. Or at least a really nasty part of Sheol._

_Me and God haven't talked in a long time. I guess I'm not a very good Jew, being a witch and all, but I don't think I'd want to talk to him, anyways. Not after what he did._

_Allowed._

_Same thing.'_

Willow shuddered, the remembered bitterness of that day passing through her mind like a shadow over the sun. She flipped the pages and read over a few more entries.

_'I keep swallowing. I wonder why I'm always swallowing? And when I wonder about it, I can't seem to stop swallowing. I never used to swallow all the time. I don't do it when I'm not worrying about it, but I can't seem to stop worrying. What if I can't do this magical twelve-step thing? What if when this whole thing is done I go right back to where I was when ... it happened?_

_I feel kind of drunk, but I haven't drunk anything. Me and mind-altering substances don't mix too well. I even have a hard time with caffeine. How did I ever think I'd be able to handle something like magic? ... But this isn't magic. Or caffeine. Or alchohol. It's hard to pay attention to what anyone says. Or maybe it's just hard to want to. But I don't want to be alone. When I'm alone here, it's worst of all. Was this what it was like for Buffy after we... after I ripped her out of Heaven?_

_I miss her. I hope she'll be able to forgive me, someday. Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I get a funky kind of 'Buffy-sense.' I bet I could follow it right to where she is if I tried. Faith, too. It's been like that since the Spell. I'll have to ask Giles about that.'_

She frowned. She never had asked Giles about the whole 'Buffy-sense.' The feeling of Buffy's presence was growing stronger with every passing moment. Ditto for Faith, though the sense of Buffy was now growing much faster than the sense of the other. She shook her head. No matter.

_'They tell me Tara... there, I wrote her name. Tara._

_They tell me that she'll always be with me, in my heart. But I don't want her with me in my heart! I want her to be with me by my side. It isn't fair! My Tara... she made everything bright, and now she's gone. Forever._

_What does that mean, forever?_

_I don't care. Forever can mean whatever it wants.'_

_'Giles tells me I need to keep a diary while I'm here in England. He says that it will help make things better._

_Easy for him to say._

_He insisted. I went out and bought a little empty book that said 'diary' on it, and showed it to him. See? I have a diary. It even says 'diary' right on the cover. I made sure to get one that was extra papery._

_I wonder why they call it a diary? And I wonder who 'they' is? I bet it was the Romans. Hah. Those Romans with their big Latin words. Always NAMING things. And what's so special about Latin, anyways? How come so many spells have to be spoken in Latin? Did someone decide one day that what made Latin so Latiny made it a good language for magic?_

_I guess I'm babbling again. You'd think it would be harder to babble on paper than it is to do it out loud, but it's not. It's easy to do that when I don't want to think about what I'm really supposed to be writing about. I know I should, but I don't think I'm ready yet. Maybe tomorrow.'_

She shut the diary there. Day one.

The plane had finished its landing in the time it had taken her to read through those bitter pages. As the 747 pulled in to the terminal, she put the diary back in her bag.

"Welcome home, me," she said.

And that was when the earth began to shake.

Willow's eyes widened even as they darkened to black, and she looked towards Los Angeles with fear etched into her face.

* * *

Buffy, Xander and Dawn stood at the gate, waiting for Willow's plane to land. Xander held a big white sign on which was written, "WELCOME BACK WILLOW," in bright yellow crayon.

"You think she'll get the sign?" Xander asked.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Get the sign? I don't think she's gonna see the sign."

"Why is it so pale?" asked Dawn.

"I used yellow crayon. It was a thing from when I talked to Willow on the bluff. I hope she gets it."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Oh, tell us again what you said."

"Well, I was talking from my heart and I knew Evil Willow wasn't really ready to..." he trailed off. "You were kidding."

Dawn grinned. "Little bit."

"We've heard the crayon speech a few times," Buffy noted, "Not that it's not great, of course."

"I saved the world with talking from my mouth," said Xander. "My mouth saved the world."

"Uh-huh," said Dawn. She waited a beat. "I'm getting nervous. Are you nervous?"

"Yeah," said Buffy. "It's gonna be weird seeing her. What do you say to someone in this situation?"

"I'm gonna say 'Hi, Willow.'"

"C'mon. You're saying it's not going to be the least bit strange? We saw her kill someone. She was about to kill Dawn..."

"And Giles wouldn't let her leave unless she completed that whatever recovery course."

Dawn nodded. "Right."

Buffy tried to conceal a guilty look.

Dawn looked at Buffy pointedly. "Right?"

"Well... she kinda didn't finish."

Dawn frowned. "She didn't finish? She didn't finish being not evil?"

"He said it was really important that she come back early and that she was doing really well and we shouldn't..."

The earth began to shake violently. Screams echoed through the terminal as people everywhere began ducking for cover.

"...worry," Buffy finished, her tone most definitely a worried one.

* * *

Fred sat alone in a booth at a quiet little all-night diner, an empty coffee mug sitting on the table in front of her. She was on her ninth cup or so, and she was starting to get a little twitchy, but she showed no sign of being even remotely ready to leave. She stared at the mug as though she was trying to see through it, but she didn't ask for a refill. Turns out, she didn't need to. The waitress came by after a few moments of quality 'stare' time with a pot of coffee and poured her another mug-full.

"I'll give you this one more," the waitress said, "But then I'm cutting you off."

Fred blinked owlishly and glanced at the waitress. "Oh, sorry. I can pay for the next one."

The waitress shook her head, smiling wryly. "It's not the free refills that I'm worried about. It's you vibrating into another dimension after a tenth cup."

Despite the fact that she knew the waitress was only trying to be funny, Fred grimaced. Alternate dimensions were not really something she wanted to think about just now. "Nobody wants that," she said.

"Why don't you call him? You've been sitting here all day. He's probably worried sick."

"I don't know what I'd say."

The waitress raised an eyebrow. "I think 'hello' would probably do it. I've seen the way he looks at you when you two come in here. That man would do anything for you."

"I know," said Fred, a note of hopelessness creeping into her voice.

The waitress didn't seem to notice. "Cheer up. Whatever's going on, as long as you've got love, it can't be that bad."

Fred opened her mouth to reply, but a distant rumbling killed her sentence before it could form. The rumbling quickly grew louder, and the building began to shake violently. She scrambled out of the booth and crouched down on the floor, pulling the waitress down with her. "Get away from the window!"

* * *

Angel, Wesley, Gunn and Lorne stepped through the doors to the Sky Temple Club and stopped short. The hulking form of the Beast stood before them at the center of the club inside a square of human corpses arranged in strict formation. The Beast turned to face them, dropping yet another corpse into the center of the square, which landed in a spread-eagled 'X'.

Lorne paled slightly. "Ooh. Uh. I'm gonna need a bigger arrow."

Angel and his crew went into action. Angel hoisted his sword and charged even as Gunn moved around to flank the Beast on the right side, Lorne and Wesley on the left.

The Beast grinned.

Angel slashed the monster hard across the chest, but his sword simply bounced off the thing's rocky hide. Undaunted, the ensouled vampire pressed his attack, slashing and thrusting ineffectually. Twin twangs of released bowstrings announced the firing of Wesley and Lorne's crossbows, both to absolutely no effect. Looking both bored and amused, the Beast caught Angel's next swing in his bare hand, crushed the sword to slivers, and threw Angel through a column.

"We might need a new plan!" Gunn yelled as he hurled his battleaxe with all his might.

The Beast caught the battleaxe in the air, bent the blade in half, and then threw it back at Gunn, who barely ducked in time to avoid having his head taken off.

Angel rose to his feet, this time wielding two smaller axes as he rushed back into the fray even as Wesley and Lorne let loose another volley from their crossbows.

The Beast seized Angel by the face and hurled him into Wesley and Lorne, sending all three champions sprawling even as Gunn drew a sword and delivered a vicious but entirely ineffectual blow to the back of the Beast's head.

The Beast whirled around, grabbed Gunn by the throat, and tossed him across the room.

Gunn goes for the Beast with a sword, hacking mightily at its head, again to no avail. The Beast grabs Gunn by the throat and throws him across the room.

Wesley rose to his feet, his face set in determination as he retrieved his pump-action shotgun from within his coat. He unloaded on the beast, firing blast after blast into the creature's rocky hide. Quickly, he discovered that shots to the creature's face affected it far more (read: a tiny bit) than shots to it's body (read: not at all), and concentrated his fire there until his ammunition was expended.

The chamber clicked empty, and Wesley's eyes widened. The Beast chuckled wickedly as it hurled the former Rogue Demon Hunter across the room.

"Might want to hold the gloat, Chuckles," said Angel as he moved forward to engage the Beast hand to hand, "Because we're just getting started."

Amazingly, Angel met with more success taking the fight to hand-to-hand than any other tactic he had tried thus far. Through a truly Herculean effort, he managed to knock the Beast to its knees, after which he drew a dagger from a leg-holster and attempted to shove it into the monster's eyes.

Attempted.

The Beast caught his arm in mid-thrust, and moving with shocking speed, twisted it around and plunged the dagger into Angel's shoulder. Angel hissed in pain, and the Beast smiled knowingly.

"Do you really think she's safe with him?" it asked.

And then it hurled him off the of the building

"NO!" Gunn screamed.

A look of sheer panic flashed across Lorne's face as he watched helplessly.

The Beast punched the floor in the center of his square of corpses. The Eye of Fire ignited, and the shockwave probably would have blasted them from their feet had any of the Champions still been standing at that point.

A pillar of flames rose from the Eye of Fire, blasting up into the sky, and carrying the Beast along for the ride.

High above the Los Angeles area, the pillar of flames rocketed into up into a huge red glowing cloud. For a moment, all was silent...

And then, with a terrific roar, a wave of fire erupted in the sky, spreading outwards across the smog layer in a truly massive aerial blaze.

And then the rain of fire began.

* * *

People came streaming off of the airplane and into the terminal, adding to the mass pandemonium that had already consumed the airport in the moment that the fire began to fall. Some ducked and covered. Others ran senselessly. Still others simply stood listlessly, staring in total shock as burning fireballs rained down from heaven.

Xander's sign clattered to the floor.

Buffy clenched her fists and stared out at the burning sky.

* * *

Chaos ruled in the streets. People ran screaming from burning homes only to be engulfed in flames as the fire from above splashed down around them. Gas stations detonated violently, engulfing entire neighborhoods with fuel-laden destruction.

From the window of his hotel room near the university campus, Duncan MacLeod stared in awe. He had seen many things in the long years of his life, but never anything like THIS. This... raw elemental destruction.

As he watched the people fleeing into the streets, thinking it better to risk the fire from above than to remain in burning buildings, Duncan's thoughts drifted back to what Buffy had told him about Sunnydale - something about a huge network of underground passages.

Spotting a particularly large group of the helpless, with two of their number already burning, Duncan MacLeod opened the door to the outside and sprang into action.

* * *

In the airport terminal, the televisions crackled a moment, and then, in unison, their images flickered out, replaced by the image of an attractive thirty-something anchorwoman.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you this Eye Witness news exclusive..."

Images of the rain of fire appeared on the television. The people at Eye Witness news had simply pushed their cameras to the windows of their building and begun filming.

The image shifts back to the anchorwoman, who is barely able to control her terror to report. She gave an overview of the situation, although there really wasn't much to report at this stage of the game beyond 'fire, sky, falling from.' After saying so in far more words than were necessary, the anchorwoman clutched at her earpiece for a moment.

"We're going live to our eye in the sky. John, what can you see from where you are?"

The image changes, and we see a man sitting in the passenger seat of a helicopter. Fire rains down all around the craft, but it has thus far remained unharmed. "Susan, there are no words for something like this." The cameraman turns, pointing the camera out the window, where a second helicopter hovers nearby. The camera pans up, revealing what looks like a cloud layer MADE out of fire. "We're just below what seems to be the source of the fire, and I don't think we'll be able to stay here long, because there have already been several near misses. It formed about ten minutes ago, rising up from somewhere in the area of the Kimball building. From what we can see, it's covering most of Los Angeles county, Orange county, Ventura county, and..."

John cut off as a fireball struck the other helicopter in a horrifically spectacular explosion.

"OH SHIT!" John screamed, "OH GOD, SWEET JESUS HAVE MERC...!"

The feed cut out.

"John, are you there?" the anchorwoman – Susan – asked worriedly. "John?" Horror shot through her features. "...John?" she asked, this time in a near whisper.

It was the same scene from the hills to the ocean. Rising smoke, descending fire. The roaring and crackling of the flames mixed with the moans of the wounded and the screams of the panicked and of the dying as the worst disaster in the history of California played itself out.

* * *

Willow finally managed to get off the plane after having been nearly trampled in the initial mad rush of bodies. All thoughts of her readiness to meet her friends banished from her mind, she raced into the terminal calling their names.

"There she is!" Dawn screamed in a near panic. She rushed over to the red-headed Wiccan and nearly crushed her in a frantic hug. A moment later, Xander and Buffy joined her.

Willow gasped and choked. "Aaah! Aaah! Air! Air!"

They separated. And that was when the others noticed her eyes. Pure black.

Xander gave her a suspicious look. "Hey black-eyed girl. I thought you weren't wearing that look anymore?"

"Hey, it wasn't me!" Willow said, waving her arms frantically. "Cause, you know, black eyes are kind of like an allergic reaction! Too many allergens in the air make you sneeze. Too much magic in the air makes me all black-eyed. Besides, you know me – I'm not much for the rain of fire."

Xander nodded, visibly relaxing. "Yeah, I forgot. You always were more the plague of darkness type." Xander grinned. "I'm kind of partial to the rain of frogs, myself."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Am I the only one who didn't like that movie? Waaay too much Dolly Parton. Yick."

"Was she the reporter that interviewed Tom Cruise?" asked Xander.

In the midst of fire, death, and darkness, a silly grin bloomed on Willow's face.

"Nah, she ran the beauty shop across the street from the store William Macy broke into."

Buffy couldn't help but smile. "Guys, middle of a majorly apocalyptic event – probably not the best time to be going all Magnolia. Let's concentrate on getting out of this alive."

"Aw, come on," said Xander, "A little fire raining down from the sky doesn't necessarily mean the end of the world..." he paused. "Except it kinda does, doesn't it? But still, it's the jokes and relentless sarcasm in the face of certain doom that makes life worth living."

"Xander!"  
"Right, shutting up now."

Buffy crinkled her nose. "Besides, I hated both of those movies."

Willow couldn't quite lose the grin. "Home, sweet home."

Buffy's smile widened. Suddenly, despite the seriousness of the situation, and with the whole 'Immortality' thing weighing heavily on her as well, she knew that it was going to be all right. Why? Because they were going to MAKE it all right. "Now let's do something about this whole 'rain of fire' thing. Willow, do you think you could create a shield for the whole town?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I guess I'm big magic girl now, but I was kinda hoping not to do anything serious for a while..." she trailed off, looking out at the falling flames. "It'd be easier of I wasn't the only one casting the spell."

They all nodded, their faces set with determination. "Let's get to work," said Buffy.

And then Willow noticed Xander's banner. "Ooh!" she squealed happily, "Yellow crayon!"

Xander grinned triumphantly, and Buffy and Dawn exchanged glances.

* * *

Duncan's arms were burning. Not literally on fire burning, but more the burning that comes from extended exercise. It hadn't taken long to find the entrance to what he thought was one of the underground passageways he had heard mention of in Buffy's long explanation of Slayerness. Carefully, he lowered the child to the ground and reached up to assist one of the adults in climbing down onto the pile of laboratory equipment he had assembled to reach the large crack in the ceiling – newly formed on account of the earthquake - that the other refugees were entering through. He had had to jump down on his own to set up the pile for the others to climb down. He had been helping the others down ever since, and was beginning to feel it.

As the last of the group was lowered safely to the ground, Duncan hopped down from the pile of lab equipment and took a look around. They were in the remains of a large laboratory. Right. So much for the underground passage theory. Several piles of vaguely human looking bones lay scattered about, and the smell of decay was thick in the air.

The refugees from above huddled in the far corner of the room, many of them badly burned, and most of them thoroughly shell-shocked. The words, 'section 314' was painted on the wall.

Silently, Duncan took stock of their situation.

They were all alive. That was good. Several of them were injured. This was bad. There seemed to be electricity and ventilation down here. This was another good thing. There wasn't any food. That was bad.

One of the children whimpered, and began to cry, and Duncan felt himself shifting out of survival mode. His expression softened slightly as he looked towards the little girl.

"Don't cry, little one," said Duncan, "It's going to be all right."

And that was when one of the adults stepped away from the rest of the refugees and put on her vampire face.

"No," the Vampire said, her fangs glinting in the light of section 314, "It's really not."

* * *

Willow, Buffy, Dawn and Xander sat in a circle in the middle of the now mostly empty airport terminal. Holding hands, with a burning candle in the middle of the circle, they had been going at it for nearly an hour, Willow chanting, and they providing energy for her to draw upon.

"I distinctly remember this not taking anywhere near as long when you put it up that one time with the Knights of Busynatum," said Buffy.

"Byzantium," said Dawn.

"Whatever. It's all just 'some place sacked by the Goths' to me. The warrior barbarian goths – not the 'black is the only colour too much mascara I listen to the Cure' goths."

"Do they really listen The Cure?" Willow asked pausing briefly in her chant. She shook her head, "Um... oh yeah, the shield. Well, that thing with the Knights of Byzantium was just shielding one little shed. We're trying to shield a whole town. It's kinda harder. And by harder, I mean sort of like if the shed is basic algebra, this is advanced trig without a calculator."

"Huh?" asked Xander.

"It's really really hard."

"Oh. Right."

Willow went back to chanting. It happened slowly at first – energy gathering. Power being redirected. The candle's flame slowly growing brighter. They were getting there. They just needed a little more time...

That familiar crawling pressure made itself known in Buffy's awareness; the presence of another Immortal. Buffy looked up with a horrible sinking feeling. She did NOT need this right now.

There, sword in hand and striding purposefully towards the spell casting scoobies, heedless of the death, fire and darkness outside, was James Moore.

He looked much as he had the first time they had encountered him. Clean-shaven, sandy blonde hair, brown eyes, and clothing much better suited to a colder climate. Considering the rain of fire going on outside, Buffy nearly laughed out loud at that.

He stopped some ten feet away from the group and scraped his sword across the tile floor. "You and I have unfinished business, Summers."

Buffy stared at the other Immortal incredulously. "You have GOT to be kidding me."

James didn't smile. "This is a challenge, Summers. You and I. You took by surprise the last time we fought. I didn't expect a girl your size to have such strength. It is a mistake I will not repeat."

"Do you see what's going on around here!? Major apocalyptic signs, end of the world type stuff? I do NOT have time for this."

James strode smoothly forward and placed the naked edge of his sword against Dawn's throat. "Make time."  
Dawn immediately went very still, staring down at the blade.

Buffy rose to her feet. If looks could kill...

Willow looked sadly at the Slayer and her Immortal challenger. "Buffy, go," she said. "We can do this."

Buffy produced her rapier, although where exactly she produced it from wasn't quite clear (there was no WAY she could have been concealing it with the outfit she was wearing), and her expression hardened.

* * *

Duncan reached for his sword. With a curse, he realized that it wasn't on him – he had left it in his hotel room.

The humans cowered against the wall, whimpering in fear as the vampire faced off against Duncan MacLeod.

The vampire grinned and licked her fangs. "I'll tell you what," she said, "You're not bad looking, and you look like you're in decent enough shape. You surrender quietly, and instead of killing you, I'll sire you. Then we can feast on them together while we wait for the fire to burn itself out."

Duncan dropped into a fighting stance.

"Right," said the vampire, seeming pleased with his decision. "A fighter. It's always more fun when they fight."

Battle was joined, fang and claw against hand and foot: vampire strength against Immortal skill.

And Duncan lost.

It wasn't hard to see why: he fought it as if he were fighting a normal human. The vulnerable spots of a human are not the vulnerable spots of a vampire.

Slowly, the vampire gained the advantage. And then, in an instant, it was over (or so it seemed). Duncan's eyes widened as the creature darted around behind him and pinned his arms against the sides of his body. The vampire's fangs flashed, and he felt a sharp pain in his neck as she bit down savagely and began to drink.

* * *

Buffy and James stood some thirty yards from the spell casting scoobies, his new broadsword against her rapier. This time, he was ready for her supernatural strength, refusing to allow her to get close enough to bring punches and kicks into play, using the greater reach that his broadsword afforded him to great effect. Their blades flashed in the light as they dueled, and sparks flew at every meeting of metal on metal.

Buffy took a slash to the arm.

"First blood to me," said James, with a grin.

The Slayer's eyes narrowed, and she thrust forward to even the score. Unfortunately, he was prepared for her attack. He caught her rapier easily in the wrist-guard of his sword and twisted his blade quickly around, attempting to disarm her.

Attempting being the operating word.

He twisted, but his sword, caught against hers, would not budge.

It was then that Buffy noticed that James' back was to the terminal window.

Buffy grinned.

She seized him by the wrist with her free hand, and charged the window. It was unbreakable glass.

She was the Slayer.

The glass shattered violently, and Buffy dropped her foe through the broken window and into the rain of fire.

Driven by pure desperation, James seized Buffy's arm at the last possible moment and pulled her along with him. They landed in a heap of splintered glass.

Fire rained down all around them as the Immortals rose to their feet, preparing to begin the next round of battle.

* * *

Spurred on by desperation, Duncan reached frantically for anything he might be able to use against the vampire even as it continued to drink his immortal blood.

There.

Near the corpse of a large humanoid monster with a huge gaping chest wound... what looked like a sword, sans handle.

Feeling weaker by the moment, he frantically reached for the skewer... and seized it.

Spinning it in his hands, he shoved it into the gut of the vampire, who released him with a shriek of agony.

The vampire rose to its feet with a bestial snarl, her yellow eyes gleaming wickedly in the fluorescent light of the former laboratory.

She rushed at him, expecting another easy victory. But Duncan was not about to make the same mistake twice. As the monster came at him, he rolled to the side and shoved the skewer through her right knee. The vampire bellowed in agony, even as Duncan rolled up to his feet and slammed a vicious kick into her other knee.

A sick crack echoed through the chamber, and the vamp collapsed.

With both legs mangled, she yanked the skewer out of her right knee and flung it at the Highlander. He caught it easily in midair and shoved it through the vampire's throat.

For a moment, they stood there, staring into each other's eyes, vampire and Immortal. And then Duncan jerked the skewer savagely from side to side. And then, with most of the connecting tissue having been severed by the skewer, he kicked the vamp's head off.

As the vampire burst apart in a cloud of dust, Duncan collapsed.

* * *

The two Immortals charged, meeting in a furious clash of blades that sent blue sparks flying in every direction. Slash, counter, thrust, parry, back and forth in a dazzling dance of death, even as the burning sky loosed its vengeance down upon the world.

"Why are you doing this?" Buffy asked as she ducked underneath a swing that would have taken her head off had it connected. "The world is going to end unless I stop it – EVERYONE is going to die. What does your Game matter in the face of that?"

A fireball struck Buffy dead on, and she went down hard. Thinking quickly, she rolled out of the way of another strike that would have decapitated her, and kept on rolling until she had extinguished her burning clothing.

James loomed over her, sword held high. The stink of singed flesh and burned hair was heavy in the air.

"The Game is ALL that matters, Summers. Mortals die. That's their nature. It doesn't matter if it's a rain of fire or a rain of bullets that kills them. They live only to die. We are eternal. I am eternal. When the sun grows cold, and the last warmth of the earth dies out, I will linger yet. When all else has turned to ash, I will endure. And so will you. Within me."

Sickened horror filled the Slayer at those words. She looked upon James Moore, and she knew pity. But also rage. "WHY!?"

"Power. In the end, there can be only One."

James brought his sword down.

In that moment, Buffy stopped holding back. Her upwards slash met his downward, and with a tremendous metallic clang, his broadsword went flying out of his hands, clattering noisily as it hit the runway. She hamstrung and gutted him almost casually. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

Buffy raised her sword. The moment of truth had come. All the reasons why this man needed to die echoed endlessly in her mind, but they were all of them hollow. All but one. He had threatened to hurt Dawn.

Blood roared in her ears, and then, as if from far away, she heard Willow's voice.

"Enemies, endings, fly and fall,"

Buffy brought the sword down.

"...Encircling arms now raise the wall!"

She hit nothing. A bubble of invisible force expanded outwards from the airport terminal even as she swung for Moore's head. It passes through Buffy harmlessly, but when it hit James, it simply disintegrated him. A foul smell lingered in the air for a moment, and then nothing. The bubble rapidly expanded to cover the whole airport... and then it rose, expanding further, encasing the whole of Sunnydale in its shimmering glow.

Lightning flashed. The quickening rose from the spot where James had ceased to be. It surged towards Buffy... only to stop short. A barrier. It flowed up and all around the shield that had encased her, even as lightning burst out from the coiling pale white energy in tremendous blasts. Cement shattered. Holes were blasted in the nearby airplanes. Sound and fury.

In the end, it could not reach her. The quickening faded, and with it, the shield.  
Buffy dropped to her knees, and Willow appeared at her side.

"Willow, what did you do?" she asked, horrified.

Tears streamed down Willow's face. "I knew..." the red-headed witch sobbed. "I knew if you killed him, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself... I don't want to lose you, Buffy."

Buffy spoke in a near whisper. "So you killed him."

Willow nodded.

"But... what about YOU, Will?"

Their eyes met, the Slayer and the Witch, both horrified by what had just happened. Willow had killed again, and Buffy... had been ready to kill a human. WOULD have killed a human, had Willow not done it first.

Buffy broke down and wept.

And high above, the rain of fire splashed harmlessly against the barrier that now protected Sunnydale.

* * *

It lasted until morning. They were already calling it the worst disaster in the history of California. The President himself had declared a state of emergency for Southern California. FEMA was brought in, the National Guard was mobilized, plus the air force and the marines from the local military bases, and just about every fire department in the state of California, plus quite a few from out of state.

Damage was widespread, and although Sunnydale had been saved, several towns and cities would not be so fortunate. Before the last fires were finally extinguished, Azusa, Glendora, Orange, Simi Valley, Torrance, and Fullerton had all burned completely to the ground."

_We see images of Duncan leading his band of refugees back to the surface, blinking owlishly in the morning light_

_Buffy offers Willow her hand, and Willow takes it, and rises to her feet. The two of them walk back towards the terminal, the sunrise at their backs._

Numerous explanations were offered. Some said that the cloud of pollution over the area had gotten so thick and volatile that it had actually combusted. Quite a few more decided that this was a sign that the end really was nigh. Attendance at churches was never quite so high as in the months following the rain of fire.

The talk shows filled up with writers of books along the lines of the Left Behind series trying to explain why they were Left Behind, where they were in the end times timeline, and what people could expect to happen next. The official statement was that the whole thing was a freak meteor shower, but very few people actually believed it. Certainly no one guessed that it had all begun with a girl. But isn't that the way these things usually go?

With Conner lying fast asleep at her side, Cordelia smiled. Everything was going according to plan. A beginning. She could feel it there inside of her, the consequences of their deed, both biological and cosmic. An impossible birth from an impossible birth.

The time had come at last.

END CHAPTER 07

* * *

Next: Those Who Seek Truth...

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know. But most importantly, let me know specifically what it is you like/love or hate and why. :)


	9. Those Who Seek Truth

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 8: Those Who Seek Truth

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

* * *

She fought as she always had. Fist for fist, blood for blood. 

This was her life.

This was her nature: red in tooth and claw.

They danced the dance of death together, the Immortal and the Immortal Slayer, she full of grace and rage in equal measure, he with the skill and cunning of a thousand years of constant battle. Blocking, ducking, weaving, slashing, thrusting, jumping.

Her upward slash met his downward cut, and with a tremendous metallic clang, his broadsword went flying out of his hands, clattering noisily as it hit the runway. She hamstrung and gutted him almost casually. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

Buffy raised her sword. The moment of truth had come. All the reasons why this man needed to die echoed endlessly in her mind, but they were all of them hollow. All but one. He had threatened to hurt Dawn.

Blood roared in her ears, and then, as if from far away, she heard Willow's voice.

"Enemies, endings, fly and fall,"

Buffy brought the sword down.

"...Encircling arms now raise the wall!"

She hit nothing. A bubble of invisible force expanded outwards from the airport terminal even as she swung for Moore's head. It passes through Buffy harmlessly, but when it hit James, it simply disintegrated him. A foul smell lingered in the air for a moment, and then nothing. The bubble rapidly expanded to cover the whole airport... and then it rose, expanding further, encasing the whole of Sunnydale in its shimmering glow.

Lightning flashed. The quickening rose from the spot where James had ceased to be. It surged towards Buffy... only to stop short. A barrier. It flowed up and all around the shield that had encased her, even as lightning burst out from the coiling pale white energy in tremendous blasts. Cement shattered. Holes were blasted in the nearby airplanes. Sound and fury.

In the end, it could not reach her. The quickening faded, and with it, the shield.  
Buffy dropped to her knees, and Willow appeared at her side.

"Willow, what did you do?" There was no horror in her voice this time. No disbelief. Wrath, dark and primal, boiled inside her diminutive form. But this wasn't the familiar darkness of the Slayer within; this was something else. Something alien.

Tears streamed down Willow's face. "I knew..." the red-headed witch sobbed. "I knew if you killed him, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself... I don't want to lose you, Buffy."

Buffy spoke in a near whisper. "So you killed him."

Willow nodded.

'How dare she,' the foreign thought rumbled through Buffy's mind like a peal of thunder. 'How DARE she rob me of what is rightfully MINE.'

In one smooth movement, Buffy decapitated her friend of seven years.

Willow didn't even have time to scream. Her headless corpse tumbled silently to the pavement, and the Quickening began.

Moment by moment, from birth to death, Willow's memories flashed through the Immortal Slayer's mind as she fed on the soul of her friend, feeding, destroying, consuming. She gorged herself on the Wicca's outraged individuality, and she did it with a song in her heart. Power beyond imagining coursed through Buffy's body, and she screamed her triumph for all the world to hear.

As the quickening faded, the dark and primal something in the depths of the Slayer's mind purred contentedly, totally and utterly sated.

Buffy looked up, and her eyes darkened to purest black.

**FLASH**

A Turok-han rises from the seal of Danzathar, and the very aether recoils in horror.

**FLASH**

An ebony goddess smiles benevolently, and Angel, Wesley, Fred, Lorne, Gunn and Conner kneel at her feet.

**FLASH**

An ancient city lies in ruins, vast tendrils of energy stretching across it and pulsing and writhing grotesquely, like bloated, corpulent veins. Hundreds of thousands of humans literally explode in showers of gore, and a small mote of white light rises from each steaming pile of blood and guts, each of them absorbed by the energy-tendrils with an agonized scream.

**FLASH**

Buffy stands before... Buffy. A copy. A double. With eyes as black as the midnight, the double grins. "From beneath you, it devours."

She woke up with a yell, her sheets soaked with sweat.

* * *

Still shuddering in the wake of her nightmare, Buffy stepped out of the shower, water dripping from her body. 

She still felt dirty.

She stood there for several long moments, water dripping from her curves down onto the cold tile floor of the bathroom. The distant murmur of the television came drifting up from the living room.

'A dream,' she thought. 'Only a dream.'

Several minutes later, dressed and ready to face the world (or at least Dawn and Willow), Buffy made her way down the stairs.

"In the wake of the series of earthquakes and what authorities are now calling 'meteor showers,' the Southland has been brought to its knees," said the anchorman, his voice filled with barely controlled fear. "As fire and rescue teams continue their struggle to contain the many fires caused by the event, Government officials are asking that residents remain in their homes and off the street. Emergency shelters have been set up all across the Southland, which we will continue to show at the bottom of the screen throughout the day..."

Buffy tuned out the rest of the broadcast. Willow sat on the couch in front of the television, and if the half melted tub of ice cream that graced the coffee table was any indication, she had been there for some time.

"'Morning, Buffy," Willow called.

Buffy didn't answer.

The scent of slightly burned pancakes led the Slayer to the kitchen, where Dawn was busy making breakfast. Butter. Maple syrup. Orange juice. Looked good.

Buffy wasn't hungry.

It wasn't until the end of their silent, uncomfortable breakfast that Willow finally summoned up the courage to speak. "So what's got you extra-wiggy this morning?" she asked.

Buffy simply looked at her, saying nothing.

"Oh," said Willow, downcast.

Another long silence fell. After some time, Dawn opened her mouth to speak. Buffy beat her to it.

"Dawn," she said, "Call Xander. We're going to need his help."

"Research?"

"Research."

Dawn paused. "Duncan?"

Buffy went very still. "No," she said, repressing a shudder by sheer force of will, "We don't need help from an Immortal."

"What about training?"

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it."

Dawn frowned.

As Dawn left the room to call Xander, Willow glanced at Buffy. "... So."

"So."

They sat in silence for several long seconds, neither one wanting to be the one to start this conversation. In the end, it was Willow who spoke. "I'm sorry," she said.

Buffy nodded. "Me too."

"Buffy... I couldn't let you take a human li..."

Buffy cut her off. "Can we not have this conversation now?" she asked, her eyes like flecks of green ice.

Willow went downcast. "I..."

The Wicca's words faded into silence.

* * *

When Xander arrived, the Scoobies flung themselves into the books with a vengeance. Between what they had recovered from the Magic Box and what Willow had brought with her from England, they had a serviceable library of occult texts. It didn't match what they'd had in the Magic Box before Willow had gone all black-eyed and vengeancy, nor did it compare to the wealth of lore that had once graced the Sunnydale High School library, but it was enough for their purposes. An uncomfortable silence hung over the gathering as they searched through the books. Xander made several attempts to break the ice to no avail, the silences only growing more intense in the wake of his attempts at humor. Eventually, he gave it up. 

When Duncan arrived at noon for the daily training session with Buffy and Dawn, it came as a great relief to the Scooby gang, even if the Slayer didn't appreciate the presence of the Immortal. Buffy sent Dawn out to train first, while she, Xander and Willow continued researching. Even so, with her mind taken off what had happened at the airport (in favor of being creeped out by the presence of another Immortal), the tension was lessened, and conversation rose up amongst the researchers.

"Ooh! Found it!" Willow squealed excitedly.

The sound of sword ringing on sword floated in from the back yard. Dawn's training was going well.

"What've you got, Will?" Xander asked, moving over to look at the book Willow was holding up triumphantly.

"Oh, just the lowdown on the big bad vamp," said Willow, the ghost of an innocently sunny smile gracing her face.

"Alisoun?" Buffy asked.

"That's the one."

"What are we waiting for?" asked Xander. "Give it a huff and a puff, and blow that info on down."

Willow and Buffy gave Xander 'the look.'

"... It sounded wittier in my head."

The girls smiled, and some of the tension in the room faded.

Willow placed her hand on the page. "_Aperio verum absconditus_," she whispered. The arcane symbols on the page shimmered for a moment, and then shifted. Willow watched with a smile as the ink rearranged itself into words and images. But as she read the text, her smile faded.

"...Oh boy."

The sounds of swordplay faded from the yard, and Dawn and Duncan came in a few moments later.

"You're up!" Dawn chirped cheerfully, sweat glistening on her face.

Buffy glanced at Duncan, who wasn't even breathing hard yet. "Hang on. Willow's found something."

All eyes turned to the redheaded Witch.

Willow looked up from the text.

"So, how is 'Lady Alisoun' going to destroy the world?" Buffy asked.

* * *

"It's called the Eater of Souls." 

Dawn blinked. "That doesn't sound good."

Xander gave Willow a sidelong glance. "Tell 'em about the twinkie."

The corners of Willow's lips twitched at that as she tried not to smile. "This is serious. Eater of Souls was an ancient Immortal who had allied himself with a demon group called the order of the Wolf, the Ram, and the Hart. He was pretty high up, apparently. He had his hands in all sorts of evil from 900 BC to about 1300 AD. That was when another Immortal – a Champion – defeated him and took his head."

"If he's dead, then what's the problem?" Duncan asked.

Willow glanced at the Highlander. "Um... it says something about a really dark Quickening. When the Champion took his head, the Eater of Souls went into the Champion... and totally consumed him. It took over his body and went on a bloody rampage across Europe."

Buffy frowned. "Is that possible?"

All eyes went to Duncan, who flinched.

"It's possible," he said.

"Um, apparently, Eater of Souls learned how to draw power from mortals as well as Immortals. It's how he got his name. He had powers beyond anything anyone had ever seen in an Immortal before... and he was working with a group of demons and humans to bring about the Apocalypse."

"Again, REALLY missing the Mayor," said Xander.

The other Scoobies rolled their eyes.

"It doesn't say who the group is, though. It just calls them 'the Circle.' But anyways, the Watchers intervened. They ambushed him and cut off his head."

Duncan frowned at that, but said nothing.

"Even decapitated, the Eater of Souls wouldn't die. Its disembodied essence lingered on. The Slayer eventually corned it in Rome, with the help of an order of Jesuit monks. It cost the Slayer her life, but they defeated it and its demonic minions, and bound the big bad on the holiest of ground – beneath the Vatican City. Then they took the body and buried it on the Hellmouth." Willow frowned. "I don't see why the Vatican City gets to be the holiest of ground."

Buffy shrugged. "Probably for the same reason crosses and holy water work against vamps."

"So the good Lady is planning to resurrect this thing?" Xander asked.

Willow nodded. "But she can't do it until sometime next year. Something about the stars needing to be right. And she has to do it in Rome." Willow frowned. "But that doesn't really help us much on the rain of fire we had. Rain of fire isn't supposed to be one of the signs of Eater of Soul's rebirth... There must be something else going on..."

Buffy shrugged. "You guys keep looking, then. It's my turn to train."

She glanced at Duncan and nodded, and then followed the Highlander into the back yard.

"Have fun!" Dawn called.

Back to the books they went.

It was nearly two hours later that Willow threw her book down onto the coffee table in frustration. "This is getting us nowhere!" she groused.

Buffy was still outside with Duncan, although they had come in for water twice since they had begun their training session. Xander had gone on a Pizza retrieval mission, leaving Willow and Dawn to continue the research in his absence.

Dawn shrugged helplessly. "Did you check online? You've got all those techno-pagan bookmarks, right?"

Willow blinked, and glanced at Xander. Or rather, she glanced at the empty spot on the sofa where Xander HAD been sitting. She could almost hear him now: "We're dumb."

A few minutes later, Willow had booted up her laptop, and was web surfing away.

* * *

"Something on your mind?" Duncan asked as they began sparring. Their blades flickered back and forth almost too quickly to be seen, and the clang of metal on metal filled the air. 

"No."

"Your 'no' sounds suspiciously like 'yes.'"

The ghost of a wry smile graced Buffy's lips as she parried the sudden lunge of her opponent's katana and retaliated with a quick riposte. "How long have you been taking heads?"

Duncan barely restrained himself from shrugging – such an error in combat with the Slayer was a sure recipe for disaster. "Four hundred years, maybe."

"Why do you do it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why fight? Why not just live out eternity on Holy Ground?"

Duncan delivered a quick three-slash combo, which the Slayer parried, dodged, and ducked underneath, respectively. He tried to use her crouch to his advantage, delivering a quick sweeping cut at knee level, but Buffy sprang up into the air some twenty feet from her crouch, doing a complete flip in mid-air, and coming down with her sword pointed for Duncan's heart. He parried, albeit partially, and the blade went through his shoulder instead of his head. And then her full weight landed on him, and he was knocked to the ground.

Buffy waited for her sparring partner to recover.

As he climbed back to his feet, Duncan considered his answer (and waited for his body to heal). "... Someone has to. In the end, there can be only one. If the wrong person wins the prize, then the world is doomed."

"I see. ... what IS the prize?"

Duncan shrugged. "Power."

* * *

She fought as she always had. Fist for fist, blood for blood. 

This was her life.

This was her nature: red in tooth and claw.

They danced the dance of death together, the Immortal and the Immortal Slayer, she full of grace and rage in equal measure, he with the skill and cunning of nearly four hundred years of constant battle. Blocking, ducking, weaving, slashing, thrusting, jumping. A parry, a savage blow to the knee, a thrust, and a flash of red.

Blood.

When Buffy came back to herself, she was staring down at Duncan's motionless body, noting the blood seeping from where she had stabbed him – right through the heart. "...Oops," she said. She shuddered before heading back inside to check on the progress of the research.

Xander had returned with Pepperoni goodness, and he and Dawn were munching away while Willow surfed through web page after web page with no luck.

"Hey Buffster, you done already?"

A guilty look flashed across Buffy's face. "Training's been cancelled on account of Duncan having a slight case of death."

Xander gave her an incredulous look. "Slight case of death?"

Buffy nodded. "He told me to stop holding back, and reminded me that we're both Immortal... He'll be fine in a few hours."

"If you say so. I brought crunchy Pizza-ie goodness. Dig in!"

Willow rubbed her eyes. No luck yet on the techno-pagan sites, and she had exhausted nearly all of them. The only thing left was the mailing list/message board hybrid that Jenny Calendar had been a member of. She'd tried for months to figure out how to access the site, but it had nigh Godlike encryption, and she'd eventually given up. But that had been back in her junior year of high school. One minor divination spell later, she punched in Miss Calendar's login and password to

_Login: yana01  
Password: Rupert_

Text scrolled by - an introduction to the site, a message of the day, and then, finally, Miss Calendar's account.

_You have 724 unread messages. _

Willow blinked. This could take a while. Rolling up her sleeves, the young Witch went to work. Most of the messages were clearly nonsense. Wild conspiracy theory mixed with all manner of conjecture and blatant stupidity. Some of the messages, however, seemed to be on the level. The earliest of them were dated from the spring of '98. That would put it right about the time that Miss Calendar had died... she shook her head and began scanning across the titles.

'_ANYONE KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH A WEREWOLF?'  
'THE WALKING DEAD'  
'CIA IMPLANTS AND YOU'  
'SERIOUSLY BAD MOJO IN SUNNYDALE...'_

Willow raised an eyebrow. This could be interesting. She selected the message and began to read.

_From: wanderer12  
To: hunter.list  
Subject: SERIOUSLY BAD MOJO IN SUNNYDALE..._

_ A word of warning – I passed through this nothing little mall town called Sunnydale the other day, and found some seriously bad mojo going down with the local bloodsuckers. I've heard things. There's a big bad named Acathla about to wake up. Anyone in the area had better steer clear. This could be VERY bad._

Curious. She read on. There was another section of messages in the spring of '99, about the time of graduation. Yet another warning that anyone in Sunnydale should get out of town immediately. The Mayor is in with THEM – in with the walking dead. And he's finally getting paid for his cooperation... In '00, there were a few scattered messages that mentioned heavy covert ops activity in Sunnydale, and there were a few messages that wonder why one town gets such attention. And why does it have its own UC? AND an airport? AND a dock? And what's up with all of those graveyards? It's vampires! The town is infested with vampires! And now the military is experimenting on them! Trying to twist them towards their own ends. No, the vampires ARE military creations in the first place! They're genetically engineered bio-weapons!

... And then in 2001, there are quite a few messages that deal with Sunnydale in reference to the end of the world. One says, "Hmm. Looks like it's time for the annual Sunnydale almost-Apocalypse." Another one actually made mention of Buffy. One of the members who had visited Sunnydale to look into the strange ongoing activity here apparently saw a "tiny little blond chick" beating the crap out of a pair of vampires. She wondered if the girl was "one of us." Their first thought was that she was a vampire who had a disagreement with the others, but then he saw her the next day on the campus of the local UC. She asks if anyone else had been given super-strength by "the angels."

There are again messages that deal with Sunnydale in the spring of '02. Everyone knows the drill at this point. Willow cringed as she realized that these messages are talking about her.

She read on. Another message: something about a vampire who runs a detective agency in Los Angeles. Something about the rising of the Beast.

Willow frowned. After a few moments thought, she decided to post a message of her own.

_From: yana01__  
To: hunter.list__  
Subject: Rain of Fire_

_Does anyone know what's going on with the rain of fire in Southern California? _

It was about half an hour before messages began to return to her.

_From: seer9  
To: yana01  
Subject: re: Rain of Fire_

_The end is nigh. Are you ready to be judged?_

Other messages came in soon afterwards. "It's the government," one message insisted, "They've been experimenting with a new weapon in recent years that turns the pollution cloud over large cities into fireballs."

More messages along these lines came in, until finally...

_From: Witness1  
To: yana01_

___Hey yana01. It's been a while. We were worried that something might have happened to you._ _Check the Book of Thoth, volume one and volume three of Des Vermis Mysteries. _

Willow hit 'print,' and didn't bother to type a reply.

* * *

After handing off the printed message to Xander and Dawn, Willow made her way into the kitchen to take a much-needed break. Cups. Cupboard next to the microwave. Juice in the fridge. She rubbed her eyes before pouring herself a glass and sitting down on one of the stools surrounding the central counter. 

Buffy walked in a minute later. "Find something?"

Willow nodded. "Gave it to Dawn and Xander."

Silence descended once more, and Buffy's casual bearing vanished as tension built between the two young women once more. Without meeting Willow's eyes, the Slayer stood and headed for the door.

"Buffy, wait."

Buffy stopped.

"We need to talk."

Buffy turned to look at her, and Willow inwardly cringed. Those eyes: hard and cold as ice. If ice were green, that is.

"If we don't talk about this, things are going to fester, and I don't like it. I want to be fester free."

Buffy smiled weakly. "Yeah, me too." She paused for a long moment. "But it's not something you can just get over, Will." Her smile faded, and an accusatory look replaced it. "You killed a man. Again."

Willow went very still. Two emotions rose up within her, each asking for the attention of her conscious mind: guilt at what she had done, and anger at Buffy's hypocrisy. Anger won out.

"So I should have let you kill him instead?"

Buffy's accusatory look vanished, and her eyes widened slightly.

Emboldened by her friend's reaction, Willow pressed on. "You remember what Anya said happens when one Immortal takes the head of another, right? That wasn't just a free power up you missed out on, Buffy. You would have taken that guy's soul and ... and eaten it up like a slice of pizza!"

Buffy glanced down at the empty pizza box on the countertop and turned a peculiar shade of green. She took a long moment to ensure that her food would stay down before replying. "There had to have been another way."

Willow shook her head sadly. "Maybe. But the only other way I could see from where I was standing involved you and a soul soufflé."

Buffy looked at Willow. "... You can't fight my battles for me, Will."

The redhead nodded. "I know." She met Buffy's gaze and smiled her disarmingly innocent smile. "How about a deal? You help me learn how to not kill people, and I help you learn how to not eat souls. You know, because eating souls, not so good."

The corners of Buffy's lips twitched as she struggled to suppress the grin that was threatening to form there. And yet...

**FLASH**

Willow's headless corpse tumbled noiselessly to the pavement.

**FLASH**

Buffy paled. She looked at the redheaded Witch for a long moment, silently assuring herself that she was not missing any heads.

"Sounds good, Will," she managed.

* * *

Dawn, Xander, and a newly resurrected Duncan MacLeod came walking into the kitchen in a grand train. 

Buffy turned towards the newcomers. "What have we got?"

Duncan leaned against the kitchen counter as Dawn and Xander sat down next to Willow at the central island.

"We've got problems," said Xander. "And I REALLY miss the Mayor. And Angelus. And the Master. And Glory." The others looked at him. "Very neat and tidy. One major Apocalypse per year. None of this newfangled 'hey, I bet my Apocalypse can destroy the world before yours does!'"

"Did we ever decide on the plural form of Apocalypse?" asked Willow.

"I bet it's Apocali," said Dawn. "Latin words usually go 'I' when you plural them."

"I'm kinda partial to Apocalypses," said Willow.

Duncan shook his head incredulously.

"Guys," said Buffy, redirecting the attention of the group to the topic at hand, "So you're telling me there's more than one Apocalypse going down?"

Dawn and Xander nodded simultaneously.

"There's one here in Sunnydale," Xander began, "one in Los Angeles, and then there's the third that's our Lady of the Bloodsuckers is cooking up in Rome, but needs to bake for another three hundred and sixty five days, or until golden brown."

Buffy fell silent.

"Buffy?" Willow asked.

"... three. Can't be a coincidence, then."

They waited for her to elaborate.

She didn't.

Xander frowned. "So Buffster, you gonna fill us in, or are you just going to leave us to David Lynch out the rest?"

"Dazzle her with our surrealistic imagery and make her think we're headed for a massive payoff when really we're as bankrupt of genuine thought as a copy of Dianetics?" asked Dawn.

Xander shook his head solemnly. "Now Dawn, The Log does not judge. It only records. The owls won't see us in here."

Willow pouted. "Come on, guys. You know I get extra-cranky when I don't get my garmonbozia."

"Very funny," said Buffy. She waited to make sure that the others were paying attention before continuing.

"I had a dream last night."

Xander brightened. "Are we talking Slayer-dream?"

Buffy nodded. "The first part of the dream... probably isn't important. But I saw three visions. First, I saw Angel and the rest of his crew kneeling at the feet of a goddess."

"What, like Glory?" Dawn asked.

"Sort of," Buffy replied, "Except she didn't feel evil. I also saw what looked like the Master rising from a metal seal at the Hellmouth." She paused. "That is, if the Master had been abandoned in the forest as a child and raised by wolves."

"Was there a bear?" Dawn asked. "I bet there was a bear."

Duncan's jaw dropped open. He's seen some very strange things in his long life, but nothing quite like THIS.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "No, no bear. No panther, either."

Xander grew thoughtful. "Remember when you found Angel after he was spit out of hell? He was wild – totally feral – right?"

Buffy nodded.

"Do you think that maybe someone is trying to resurrect the Master?" Xander waited a beat. "You know what I said a moment ago about missing The Master? ... Yeah. Forget I said that."

"Hey, maybe it's only that someone's going to release a vampire just as old." Buffy frowned. "The last thing I saw was this funky old city being destroyed by a REALLY big quickening that killed everything it touched and absorbed their souls."

"Right," said Willow, "I think it's safe to assume that that's the Roman Apocalypse."  
Xander blinked. "I thought the Roman Apocalypse was the one that involved the seals, trumpets, and four guys on really nasty horses?"

"No," said Willow, "That would be the Roman Catholic Apocalypse."

Buffy grew thoughtful. "... We don't have the resources to cover both Los Angeles and Sunnydale at the same time. I think we should focus on our problem, and hope that Angel can deal with the one in L.A." She waited a beat. "It shouldn't be too hard for him if he has a goddess on his side."

"That still leaves Rome," said Willow. "I don't like the thought of Alisoun doing whatever she wants over there for however long it takes for us to deal with what's going on here and go stop her."

"Neither do I," said Buffy.

All eyes went to Duncan.

"What?"

The group was silent, each of them simply looking at Duncan expectantly.

Duncan frowned. "What about training?"

"Saving the world is more important than training," said Buffy.

Duncan's frown deepened. "I came here as a personal favor to an old friend of mine," he said, looking Buffy directly in the eye. "Training you is as far as it goes."

Buffy folded her arms. "Fine. If you don't want to help save the world, I'm not going to make you. Thanks for the training. Now go back to wherever it was you came from."

Duncan's eyes narrowed, and he matched the Slayer's gaze glare for glare... for about a minute. With a defeated look, he sighed. "Right. Rome it is, then."

Buffy smiled. "Thanks."

Dawn spoke up then. "You might run into another Immortal there, by the way. We don't know his name, but he's very well known in the demon communities. He calls himself 'The Immortal.'

Duncan looked nonplused. "... I like it. Short, to the point."

Xander smiled faintly at that, and would have made a flippant comment had Buffy not spoken up.

"All right, gang. You all know the drill."

The Slayer smiled.

"Let's get to work."

END EPISODE 08

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know. But most importantly, let me know specifically what it is you like/love or hate and why. :) 

Author's notes:

This concludes the first story arc of Quickened. While I could deal with the fight with the First and the whole Jasmine story arc, those tales have already been told, and they both possess sufficient momentum that creating sufficient change to justify their retelling in fanfic form would be no easy feat. A possible solution that I'm considering is to deal with these two story arcs by means of a series of interludes, and only in so far as they are changed by the events that have taken place in Quickened.

I'm definitely continuing the story, although I am at present unsure as to whether I should simply continue attaching additional chapters to this story or to start the new story arc as a 'sequel.' I'm sure I'll figure it out in due time


	10. Methos

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Interlude: Methos

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

* * *

It wasn't the most upscale place in town. Still, even filled with bikers and punks as it was, the bar wasn't the worst one in town, either. One thing it did have going for it was its beer. The best beer in Seacouver, rumor had it. The sounds of loud music mixed with the babble of the people and the occasional cracks of pool balls striking against each other, creating a vaguely unpleasant, claustrophobic atmosphere. At the bar, a man – thirty something, wearing tight black jeans, a black long sleeved shirt, and a vaguely greenish duster – sat nursing a beer.

The beer is what had drawn him here, you see. The best beer in Seacouver was nothing to sneeze at, even if it couldn't compare to what he'd had in Germany at that quaint little inn back in 1453. Still, this was damn good beer, and Methos was determined to enjoy it. After his trip to Vegas, and the advice he'd offered that newborn Immortal, he figured he deserved a good beer, and since he'd already drank everything in Duncan's fridge, well, here he was.

An aging, respectable looking man in a business suit walked in through the front door. Several of the patrons turned to stare, but he paid them no mind, his purposeful stride carrying him towards the bar. He sat down at the stool next to Methos.

Methos, or Adam Pierson, as he usually called himself these days, swallowed a mouthful of beer and turned towards the man in the business suit. "Can I help you?" he asked.

The man smiled, producing a business card from his pocket. "Yes. Yes you can." He offered Methos the card.

Methos didn't take it.

"My name is Holland Manners, and I represent the law offices of..."

Methos cut him off. "I know who you are," he said.

Holland nodded. "I suppose you know why I'm here, then."

Methos took another sip of beer. "Yes," he said, "But don't you think it would be more dramatic if you spelled it out for me?"

Holland looked annoyed for the split second that it took him to reign in his natural reaction. "I don't know that we need to get down to business so quickly. I'll buy you a drink, if you like. Another beer?"

Methos looked at Holland, his face blank.

"I suppose not," said the lawyer. "Right then. Business it is!" He took a breath. "Mr. Pierson, there have been a few important changes in policy recently. The Senior Partners are marshalling an army, and it needs generals. The Four Horsemen are being reformed, and we'd like you to be a part of it."

Methos smiled faintly. "Well, I'd love to help, but without George and John, it just wouldn't be the same. Death has a way of splitting up old bands."

Holland laughed. "So it does. But I'm afraid that their contracts with Wolfram and Hart go well beyond that. And so, of course, does yours. Standard perpetuity clause, you understand."

"Of course."

"Mr. Pierson, are you ready to get back into the saddle, as it were?"

"Let me think about that." The oldest Immortal waited a beat. "No."

"I see," said Holland. "Are you aware that your refusal could be interpreted as a breach of contract?"

Methos nodded. "And I don't care. I'm not that person any more. I'm different, now."

Holland smiled pleasantly. "Different or not, you signed in your own blood. Are you aware of the consequences of a breach of your contract with us?"

Methos nodded, this time wearily. "I am."

Holland extended his hand, but Methos didn't shake it.

"Well then," said the lawyer, "the Senior Partners will be very disappointed to hear that. You were good, Methos. A hard worker, and dedicated to your work. It'll be a shame to lose someone of your caliber."

"Spare me the false courtesy."

Holland stood up. "We'll give you a few days to put your affairs in order."

As Holland walked out, Methos turned back to his beer.

This was a bad situation. VERY bad, in fact. Still, he hadn't lived for thousands of years without learning how to deal with emergencies like this one. If you can't win, you change the rules. If you can't change the rules, you ignore them.

Now all he needed to do was figure out how to do that.

In the meantime, getting the hell out of Dodge sounded like a good idea just now.

END

* * *

Author's notes:

This is the first in a series of interludes dealing with the time between the first and second story arcs of Quickened. At the moment, I've got five of them in the works including this one; one for Methos, one for Duncan, one for Angel, one for Buffy, and one for Faith. I'm debating whether or not to write one for Amanda as well. Some, like this one, won't be much more than a short scene. Others may be as long as ten or twenty pages. The ones dealing with Buffy, Angel and Faith probably won't make much sense if you haven't seen season seven of Buffy and season four of Angel, but with any luck, they'll still be an enjoyable read.

Also, yes: Holland Manners IS dead. And he's still working for Wolfram and Hart. Somewhat cliched, perhaps, but hey, it works.


	11. Angel

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Interlude: Angel

Disclaimer: This interlude assumes that the reader is familiar with the the Angel season four episodes 'Peace Out' and 'Home.' The episodes are the framework for this interlude, and it may be confusing to anyone who's never seen them. This particular interlude includes scenes and dialogue from the episodes in question, though I've tried to avoid excessive use of it. 'Peace Out' was written by David Fury. 'Home' was written by Tim Minear. I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me.

* * *

_Sometimes I feel  
Like I don't have a partner  
Sometimes I feel  
Like my only friend  
Is the city I live in  
The city of Angels  
Lonely as I am  
Together we cry_

_I drive on her streets  
'Cause she's my companion  
I walk through her hills  
'Cause she knows who I am_  
_She sees my good deeds_  
_And she kisses me windy  
I never worry_  
_Now that is a lie_

_I don't ever want to feel  
Like I did that day  
Take me to the place I love  
Take me all the way_

'Under the Bridge' – Red Hot Chili Peppers

* * *

Angel made his way alone through the moonlit streets of Los Angeles. The sky was clear, and the moon and the stars shone brightly, but it was a fell night nonetheless. In the wake of Jasmine's unveiling on international television, people had been rioting in the streets. The crowds had already passed through this area, but the noise of it lingered faintly, like the distant buzz of an angry swarm of bees. Fires burned uncontrolled, and the wrecks of vehicles lay scattered across the streets. The Police? The Firefighters? Emergency services? Swept up in the panic with all the rest.

It was worse here in Los Angeles than elsewhere – Jasmine had been based here; physically present here. Angel didn't blame them. Even within his own heart, the ache of separation from the love of the ebony Goddess was almost more than he could bear. As he walked, he recalled his final conversation with her.

"No. No, Angel," Jasmine had said. "There are no absolutes. No right and wrong. Haven't you learned anything working for the Powers? There are only choices. I offered paradise. You chose this!"

"Hey, I didn't say we were smart. I said it's our right. It's what makes us human."

The Goddess had burst into tears, and even with his eyes opened to her true appearance, Angel's heart clinched at the sight.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she asked.

Angel glared, doing the best he could to ignore the yawning sense of emptiness within. "Let's run down the list, huh? Rain of fire, blotting out the sun, putting Cordy in a coma, enslaving mankind, and, yeah, oh, yeah, hey, you eat people!"

"Like you never have?"

"Thousands of people are dead because of what you've done."

She'd approached him, then. "And how many will die because of you? I could've stopped it, Angel. All of it. War, disease, poverty. How many precious, beautiful lives would've been saved in a handful of years? Yes, I murdered thousands to save billions. This world is doomed to drown in its own blood now."

"The price was too high, Jasmine. Our fate has to be our own, or we're nothing."

She'd laughed bitterly, tears yet streaming down her cheeks. "You don't understand anything. This was the world's last chance, don't you see? Thanks to your girlfriend and her witch, the old treaties are broken. The Senior Partners don't have to keep things quiet anymore, Angel. The armies of Hell will be let loose, the world is gonna burn, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You wanted to know what part you were going to play in the Apocalypse? Well, congratulations, Angel. Now you know. You're the man who doomed the world."

Angel clenched his fist. The price had been too high: the price of Jasmine's peace, but also the price of ending it: the price of giving back to humanity the ability to choose its own path.

At length, he stood before the entrance to the Hyperion hotel. Jasmine's words echoed in Angel's head. '...the man who doomed the world.' He steeled himself, and then walked into the building.

Lilah Morgan was there waiting for him, ready to offer him the Keys to the Kingdom.

As Lilah made her offer, Jasmine's words washed over Angel once more. "I could've stopped it, Angel. All of it. War, disease, poverty."

And now, here was a representative of everything he fought against, offering to put him and his in charge of the very evil that he had fought for so long.

"You've earned it," Lilah said. "Think of it as a reward."

"Reward for what?" asked Gunn.

"Ending world peace. We were really on the precipice there. I mean, a bona fide goddess incarnates, is inches from eliminating all violence, hate and litigation from the planet, and you five — with an assist from sonny boy — manage to undo it all." Her smile widened. "Way to go!"

"That's not what happened!" Fred exclaimed.

"No?"

Wesley came to Fred's defense. "Jasmine was creating a slave state."

Lilah nodded. "Right. Where the slaves are full of giggly joy and love. Ugh. What a nightmare. Anyway, I'm dead and running late. Think about our proposal. If anyone's interested and wants the grand tour, there'll be a limo waiting outside just before dawn. And hey... good job."

She gave them a thumbs-up before walking out the door.

Silence fell over the team at Angel Investigations.

After a long moment, Fred spoke. "We ended a nefarious global domination scheme, not world peace, right?"

She wished that her voice didn't sound so uncertain.

"Right?"

For a final time, Angel heard Jasmine's voice, far off and distant now, but still very clear. "The Senior Partners don't have to keep things quiet anymore, Angel. The armies of Hell will be let loose, the world is gonna burn, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You wanted to know what part you were going to play in the Apocalypse? Well, congratulations, Angel. Now you know."

Angel looked up, his face filled with fresh resolve. He wouldn't believe that he had doomed the world. Not so long as he had something to say on the matter. He'd wanted to know what part he was going to play in the Apocalypse, and Jasmine was right about one thing.

Now he knew.

END

* * *

Author's notes:

This is the second in a series of interludes dealing with the time between the first and second story arcs of Quickened. I'm still debating whether or not to write an interlude for Amanda, but at this point, it's a choice between incorporating the Amanda material into Faith's interlude and giving her one of her own.  
  
Finally, note that these are not going to be posted in chronological order. The actual chronological order of them would be Faith, Methos, Duncan, Angel, Buffy.


	12. Faith

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Interlude: Faith

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

* * *

The city of Stockton, population 261,300. Some eighty-three miles east of San Francisco and situated on the San Joaquin River, Stockton was the kind of city you could almost be fooled into liking. It had started in 1849 as a Gold Rush town, but now it was more of an urban sprawl that desperately wanted to be a good, clean, suburban place to raise your kids. Stockton. Home of the Northern California Women's Facility, a medium custody level two and three prison. It's maximum allowable capacity? 800. The number of convicts actually present? 832. But that's the way it goes, sometimes. The inmates knew all about that.

This particular corrections facility had the distinction of being the place where the Vampire Slayer named Faith was to carry out her sentence. It was early autumn, 2002, and the grass around the prison, not yet rejuvenated by the rains, lay brown and dead beneath the moonlit night.

At midnight, lying in her cell within the prison, Faith dreamed a dream.

* * *

It was night, and she stood in the cemetery, facing Buffy's grave. The wind whispered in the grass and the leaves of the trees. All was peaceful. The gibbous moon gave enough illumination that Faith could just make out the inscription on the headstone.

**BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS  
1981-2001  
BELOVED SISTER  
DEVOTED FRIEND  
SHE SAVED THE WORLD  
A LOT**

Angel had told her that Buffy was dead. He'd stopped by for a visit before heading off for his long retreat in the Tibetan monastery. That had been almost three months ago. But it had never really sunk in until now. Here she was, standing at the grave of Buffy Anne Summers.

It felt wrong. Buffy was dead. Faith was alive and paying for her crimes. 'If anyone deserved to die,' thought Faith, 'It was me. Not her...' It was probably survivor's guilt.

Probably. But that didn't make it go away.

As she stood there, lost in thought, a small group approached the grave through the woods. Startled out of her ruminations, Faith looked up. Xander. Anya. Tara. All holding candles. And Willow. Willow was the only one without a candle. She held a small urn that, to Faith's eyes, pulsed with the promise of death.

She shuddered.

Buffy stepped out of the shadows and moved to stand at Faith's side. "Faith."

"Hey B," said Faith, giving Buffy a once over. The blonde girl was clearly dead and at least a couple of months decomposed. Her face was a ghastly sight, with milky, leaking eyes and rotten flesh and decaying hair. "You've looked better."

Buffy nodded, but said nothing.

With the necessary preparations now complete, Willow was ready to cast her spell. A few moments passed, and then, she began.

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us."  
The redheaded Witch dipped her finger into the urn and marked her forehead and both cheeks with blood.  
"Before time, and after. Before knowing and nothing."  
She poured the contents of the Urn onto the soft earth of Buffy's grave.  
"Accept our offering. Know our prayer."

"It begins," said Buffy.

"Yeah, I got that. I'm more worried about the million dollar question: WHAT begins?"

Buffy turned to look at Faith. "Everything."

Faith raised an eyebrow, nonplused. "Cryptic much?"

Buffy looked directly into Faith's eyes. "Lightning flashes, sparks shower, and the feather falls from its place on the scales."

Faith looked away. "Shoulda figured you wouldn't be much help." She smiled ruefully. "That's what I get for tryin' to hold a conversation with a walking corpse."

Willow knelt before the grave, arms outstretched, panting for breath. The others watched, clearly concerned. But they couldn't stop now. The spell had to be carried to completion. If this failed, nothing would bring Buffy back.

"Osiris," Willow yelled, "Let her cross over!"  
She began to choke. Deep, ugly gashes appeared on her arms, and ... things... began crawling underneath her skin, traveling up her arms, moving up her neck.

Tara stared in wide-eyed horror, her candle nearly forgotten. "Oh my God, oh my God..." she said, again and again, willing everything to be all right even as she knew that it most definitely wasn't.

Willow fell forward, gagging, and barely catching herself with her hands on the grass, stopping just short of falling onto the Urn. She clutched the grass desperately as a snake came slithering out of her mouth.

Xander's jaw dropped open.

"It's a test," Tara insisted anxiously. "It's a test. Willow..."

"Gettin' kinda messy, B," Faith said, striding towards the Scoobies. "Red doesn't look so good."

"No," said Buffy.

"OK," said Faith, "Getting a little creeped out with the Twilight Zone crap. What's going on?"

"Ma'at weeps. The balance is broken. The Apocalypse comes."

Faith's eyes lit up with at least a partial understanding. She didn't know what the hell Ma'at was, and she didn't care about the balance, but Apocalypse? That was something she could deal with. If what the Scoobies were doing was going to cause an Apocalypse, then she'd just have to stop them. She reached out, trying to interrupt the spell casting.

Faith's hand passed through Willow's body as if it were no more substantial than smoke. "What the hell?" she asked.

Buffy regarded her Sister-Slayer sadly. "The avalanche has already begun. It is too late for the pebbles to vote."

Anya, Xander and Tara continued to stare. Willow had managed to push herself back up into a kneeling position, and she was breathing as if she had run a marathon. "Osiris!" she yelled, "Release her!"

The red light surged down into the grave at her feet, and for a moment, all that any of them could hear was the distant noise of motorcycles.

And then all hell broke loose.

Lightning surged up around them in a furious wave. Headstones shattered, and sparks erupted from the earth in great fountains. The Scoobies dove for cover.

"Is this supposed to happen?" Xander asked, his voice filled with panic.

"I don't know!" Tara cried, flinging herself down protectively across the Willow's prone form. "Willow!" she sobbed, pulling the unconscious redhead into a protective embrace, nearly frantic in her need to make sure that her lover was all right.

In the distance, the revving of motorcycle engines grew louder.

Buffy's flesh visibly knit itself back together before Faith's eyes, the work of three months of decay undone in a few seconds.

"I don't understand," said Faith.

Buffy's sad smile sent Faith's heart into her throat. Metaphorically speaking. "You will."

And then a tremendous blast of the lightning struck the dark Slayer directly in the chest.

* * *

Faith woke up screaming in her jail cell, liquid agony coursing through her veins. The air crackled with static, and bolts of lightning ripped through the enclosed space of her cell. She lifted into the air, screaming her voice raw as the power of Osiris flooded into her body through the link that she shared with her Sister-Slayer.

Alarms began to sound, and the other prisoners in the cellblock began to scream as the lightning blasted hole after hole in the walls of Faith's cell. Bars turned to slag, and concrete walls over a foot thick were reduced to so much powder in an instant.

When the lightshow faded, Faith fell into the twisted remains of her bed with a crash.

The guards hovered nervously at the shattered entrance to her cell, none of them wanting to be the first to approach. Even before this, they had been afraid of her. Faith had made no secret of how strong she was. Hiding wasn't her style. The guards knew very well that if she ever decided that she wanted to leave, there would be little that they could do to stop her. Even without the freak electrical storms, most of them wanted nothing to do with her.

It was Eddie who finally pushed his way through the small crowd of guards and rushed to Faith's side: Eddie, her only friend among the guards.

He put one hand on her forehead, checked her pulse with the other, and frowned. "Come on," he said, "Let's get her to the infirmary."

No one moved.

* * *

Over a year later, Faith sat in the prison's common room with a crowd of inmates, watching America's Most Wanted. Bored looking guards were posted at the doors. Not even the questionable thrill of guarding a woman who could snap a guard like a toothpick if she so chose could overcome the sheer boredom of a day like today. Faith hadn't done much to keep her unnatural strength a secret here. Secret identity girl had never been her style. It wasn't just the guards that were afraid of her, either. The other inmates knew full well that Faith was someone you did not want to make an enemy of. She did as she pleased, and if someone didn't like it, they kept their mouth shut. No small number of the others at the prison wondered why, if she could leave at any time, she didn't do so.

The rain of fire in Los Angeles and the subsequent week long and counting total solar eclipse had created quite a stir at first, but at this point, the excitement had died down somewhat – at least within the prison compound. Fire rained down. The sun was blotted out. And yet the endless monotony of prison life simply... continued. Popular opinion outside the prison, well, that was another matter entirely.

For the depths of winter, it was actually pretty balmy. Or maybe it was just that it was always hot in California's Central Valley: A lazy summer day, sans summer. And then there was that nasty Central Valley smell that got into EVERYTHING, and God help you if you took a shower with that water.

Even after a year, Faith didn't know what the hell had happened that night. Ever since that day, she'd been able to sense Buffy's presence, and strangely enough, Willow's as well. She'd asked Angel when he'd finally come for a visit after his long Tibetan holiday, and the vampire had offered to do some research on the subject, but nothing had turned up.

Faith was one of the few Caucasian women in the prison – most were African American or Latina. As a general rule, non-Caucasian female offenders received harsher sentences and were convicted more often, usually for no better reason than the fact that they weren't white. It wasn't right, but hey, that's the way it was. Most of the women in the prison were in on drug related charges. But most of those weren't kept in security level three. Most of them slept in the guarded dormitories. Faith, though, was definitely cellblock material.

On the television, John Walsh was making an announcement. "Thanks to your tips," the Brown's Chicken Killers had finally been brought to justice. There were a few scattered cheers at that – some of the women here had called in tips in the hopes of having their sentences reduced. He went over the case, then, but Faith wasn't listening.

Feeling uncommonly nostalgic, she found her thoughts tracing back into the distant past. She wondered how many of her old friends were in places just like this.

Kenny might have landed in prison on drug charges, she supposed, but she doubted it for anything more serious than that.

Ronnie? Nah. Ronnie had always been way too much of a slacker. A real loser, though she hadn't seen that at the time. He liked to talk big, but in the end, he'd never had anything to show for it. Still, even if Ronnie had been a disappointment in the sack, at least she'd gotten a few good laughs in at his expense. Especially when he went off on his "any form of work is like prostitution" rant. Capitalistic bastards strangling the lifeblood out of society by encouraging greed, and no one produces great works of art like the Sistine Chapel anymore.

Faith smiled wryly.

How about Sarah, then? ... Nah. Sarah had always been way too smart for her own good, and the likelihood that she would have done anything that would land her in jail was slim to none. Of all the friends that Faith had had before picking up and running to Sunnydale, Sarah had always been the one that the rest of them had been sure would succeed.

That brought back memories.

Boston. Heh.

She shook off the cobwebs of nostalgia, returning fully to the present. Supposedly, she was getting a roommate today. Her cell really wasn't big enough for two, but with the prison running low on space, they'd already put the bunk bed in the place of her regular bed. It had been costly to repair the damage that had been done to the room by the freak electrical storm, but it wasn't like they had much choice in the matter. There just wasn't enough room for them not to.

Idly, she wondered what sort of person she'd end up stuck with.

As it happened, she never found out.

"Hey Faith," Eddie called as he stepped into the room. "Your lawyer's here to see you."

Faith blinked, looking up at the friendly guard. "My lawyer?" she asked.

At Eddie's confirming nod, the Dark Slayer shrugged faintly, stood up, and went out to meet the world.

END

* * *

Author's notes:

This is the third in a series of interludes dealing with the time between the first and second story arcs of Quickened. Three down, two to go.

Before any of you ask, no, Faith is not an Immortal.


	13. Buffy

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Interlude: Buffy

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

* * *

In the cavern beneath the wine cellar of the Shadow Valley Vineyard, Buffy stared in awe. There it was, right in front of her, embedded in solid granite. A hybrid weapon: part axe, part scythe, part stake, and with a sheer badass factor that would make even the Terminator think twice before messing with its wielder. She grasped the handle, and in that moment, she knew that it was HERS.

Duncan had once told her that she needed to make her sword a part of her. Despite all her training in swordplay, she had never been able to do that with her rapier. First used by a virtuous Knight to stop Acathla from destroying the world. Then used by Angelus in his final battle with the Slayer. Then used by the Slayer as a fledgling Immortal. Now, it would hang in the weapons cabinet, unused unless it be on an irregular basis by one of the other Scoobies. Buffy had often wondered why she'd never been able to feel that kind of connection to her old weapon. Now, with the Scythe in her hands, she knew why.

She smiled.

She didn't have time to continue with the admiring of the Scythe. The trapdoor slammed open, and Caleb came walking down the stairs, almost casually.

"So, you found it," he said. "Not impressed. 'Cause the question now, girly-girl, is can you pry it from solid rock before I come over there and-"  
There was a flash, and suddenly, everything was different.

Caleb was gone. Buffy stood before... Buffy? The other Buffy's eyes were as black as midnight, and she held the Scythe.

Buffy stared at her double.

"From within you," the black-eyed Buffy intoned, "It devours."

Buffy raised a very nonplused eyebrow. "Look, this is getting a little old. I get it. You've already made this perfectly clear. You're the First. You're EVIL, with a capital E. Now can I get back to thrashing your minion, or did you want to throw a few ineffectual taunts my way first?"

The black-eyed Buffy shook her head. "You don't understand. Not the First." She smiled wickedly, and for a moment, Buffy saw an ancient city in ruins, with vast tendrils of energy stretched across it, pulsing and writhing grotesquely as they absorbed the souls of every living thing they touched. "Me."

Another flash. The other Buffy vanished, and the Slayer found herself with her hands around the Scythe's handle, which was yet embedded in the rock. Caleb's words hung heavily in the air.

Buffy casually lifted the Scythe out of the granite with no visible effort whatsoever. Hefting the weapon, she turned towards Caleb, who stopped in his tracks, a look of uncertainty and fear playing across his face.

"... Darn..."

END

* * *

Very short, I know, but necessary. This is going to be the final interlude. I've decided to cut Duncan's interlude, and to simply move on to the next story arc from here. The interludes have served their purpose, and to write another one when I really don't think another one is needed would be counter-productive. 


	14. When in Rome

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 9: When in Rome

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

Note: This chapter marks the beginning of the second story arc of Quickened. Note that this story arc will contain spoilers for season seven of Buffy, as well as season five of Angel.

---------------------------------

In the deep places of the world, where things have learned to walk that ought to crawl, a voice - a human voice – a young woman's voice - rang out into the darkness, confident and strong. "So here's the part where you make a choice."

The Presence in the darkness shifted uneasily.

"What if you could have that power... now? In every generation one Slayer is born because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule."

Eyes opened, glittering like jewels as, for the first time in millennia, light streamed down into the Hellmouth. Artificial light, but light nonetheless.

"I say we change the rule. I say my power should be our power. From now on, every girl in the world who might be a Slayer will be a Slayer."

The Turok-Han grew agitated. The light from above pushed back the ever-present darkness of the Hellmouth, and a group of determined young women descended the stairs, followed by the vampire with a soul.

"Every girl who could have the power will have the power."

Power. Good. Evil. Choices. What to choose?

"Can stand up, will stand up."

The army of Turok-Han came at the newly empowered Slayers like a tidal wave, a fetid mass of rotting flesh bound by ancient power and the malevolent demon within.

"Slayers, every one of us."

All across the world, they awakened. The little girl playing baseball. The abused daughter. The good hearted church girl. The bitter prostitute. The brainy college student. The teen mother. The hopeful singer. The troubled juvenile delinquent. The aspiring young actress. Girls and young women all across the world rose up as the power and the knowledge of the Slayer came rushing in. Completed them. Empowered them.

"Make your choice. Are you ready to be strong?"

They made their choice.

-------------------------------

Faith glanced down at the crater that had once been Sunnydale. "Looks like the Hellmouth is officially closed for business."

"There's another one in Cleveland," said Giles. "Not to spoil the moment."

Xander smiled. "We saved the world."

Willow interjected. "We CHANGED the world. I can feel them, Buffy. All over. Slayers are awakening everywhere."

"We'll have to find them," said Dawn.

"We will."

"We have a lot of work ahead of us," said Giles.

Willow nodded. "Yeah, the First is scrunched so... what do you think we should do, Buffy?"

"Yeah," said Faith, "You're not the one and only Chosen anymore. Just gotta live like a person. How's that feel?"

"What are we going to do now?" Dawn asked.

Buffy looked down at what used to be the Hellmouth... and smiled.

--------------------------------------

Funny thing about Final Battles and World Changing Events: life goes on. It seems wrong somehow. How can the world continue as it did before in light of what's happened? What's been lost? What's been sacrificed? And what's been gained? But carry on it does. So too did the Scoobies carry on. What they had done had changed everything. And it had changed nothing. Life went on. The weeds had been pulled from the garden. Tomorrow, there would be thunderstorms.

The task before the Scoobies was now threefold: rebuilding the Watcher's Council (but better this time), finding and training the Slayers scattered across the world, and stopping the Apocalypse brewing in Rome. Willow and Kennedy had gone to Brazil in search of the Slayers in South America. Giles was sent to his homeland of England with a Slayer in tow to find any that had awakened there. Xander had gone to Africa with Robin and a few Slayers. Faith had originally intended to go with Robin, but Buffy had asked her to stay with her. Several other Slayers had been sent to various other parts of the world. Buffy, Dawn, Andrew, Faith, Vi, Rona, and Shannon, had gone to Rome.

They came out of the Fiumicino Airport at sunset like ducks all in a row, Buffy and Faith leading, and the others trailing close behind. Their rental car was waiting: an old, very narrow van of British make with just enough room to seat all of them. They all piled in, and the van pulled away from the curb. And went exactly nowhere. Hurrah for Roman airport traffic! Nearly an hour later, after receiving a "congratulation record for being correct and respectful of the traffic regulations" from the airport traffic wardens (it was too much work to hand out tickets to people who broke the traffic rules, so the traffic wardens had long since decided that they'd go the route of positive reinforcement instead, and theirs was the only one that had been given out so far that day), the gang finally made it out of the airport.

Rome was waiting for them.

Dawn decided very quickly that Rome was insane. Ancient monuments seemed to spring up like crab grass. All you had to do was turn your back for a second, and there was another monument of some sort. People were everywhere. Tourists mixed with natives all together in a mad press. Narrow streets filled with equally narrow vehicles, honking horns, screeching tires, bluster, and the ever-present murmur of the crowd. Gypsies, whores, schemers, tourists, a mother and her children, a man in a business suit, taxi drivers from hell (usually not literally, though).

"Rome," said Andrew, filling his voice with as much of what he thought was an "important" sound that he could. Naturally, he only managed to sound silly. "City of contrasts." He glanced at Faith and Buffy in the front two seats.

The others ignored him.

Dawn was content to stare out the window at the confusing, jumbled, maddening, beautiful mess that was Rome, while listening to Vi, Rona, and Shannon chatter – for a little while. At length, she asked, "So where are we going, anyways?"

"We got an old place on the outskirts," said Faith, glancing back at Dawn over her shoulder. "Used to be an academy for the Watcher's council."

"And now a training ground for Slayers?" Dawn asked.

"Kinda poetic if you think about it," said Faith.

It was a walled compound, and at least several hundred years old by the looks of it, though not so old that it didn't have electricity. With its impressive pillared gateway and the tree-lined steps leading from the end of the driveway to the entrance to the main building, the compound had a distinguished air that seemed totally at odds with the motley crew of young women (and Andrew, Watcher in training) that climbed out of the van. The main building was in the center of the compound, with a dormitory in each of the four corners, and pillared hallways with roofs but no walls leading from each of the dormitories to the main building.

Standing in front of the van parked at the point where the driveway met the tree-lined steps leading up to the main building, Buffy gave the facilities a quick once-over and smiled.

"This'll do."

---------------------------------

Dawn wasn't particularly happy to be assigned cleaning duty with Andrew, Vi, Rona, and Shannon. 'Not particularly happy' being a euphemism for extremely annoyed. Not that the place didn't need cleaning. It had been a long time since the Watchers had actually used this place – the Watcher's Academy in Rome hadn't been used for nearly ten years, and quite a bit needed cleaning, fixing, and replacing. The priorities were to get at least one dormitory functional as soon as possible, after which they'd be expected to get the kitchens in working order, followed by the less vital areas.

Dawn turned towards Buffy. "So why exactly aren't you helping with this?"

"Meeting with Duncan," Buffy replied.

Dawn nodded faintly, and then turned to Faith. "How about you? What are you going to be doing while the rest of us are cleaning?"

"Watching," Faith replied, grinning widely, "And laughing."

Dawn glared.

She glared, yes. But she also got to work. There was a lot of work that needed doing if this place was going to serve as Slayer Central. They didn't have much in the way of manpower now (or is that Slayer power?), but when the others started sending Slayers to them from around the world, it wouldn't do to be unable to house them.

As the renovation of the Roman Watcher's Academy began, a nondescript man in a business suit stopped at the front gate and peered within. He then produced a cell phone from his pocket and quickly dialed a number, exposing the tattoo on his wrist as he did so.

"Sir? She's here."

-----------------------

It wasn't Joe's Blues Bar, but it was a bar. Dim lights, cigarette smoke filling the air, the bar stools full of drunks, the tables full of not quite as drunks. Not the classiest place in Rome, but it served a decent brew. Decent enough, at least, that Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan and Joe Dawson chose to frequent the place.

"So who's this girl we're waiting for again?" asked Richie as he set his empty mug down on the table next to the half filled pitcher of beer.

Duncan smiled a fake smile. "Maybe if you'd been listening the first twenty times I went over this, you'd know."

Richie shrugged. "Maybe. I guess what I don't get is how she tells you to go to Rome, and you go to Rome. Stories that involve beautiful women asking you to do them favors rarely end well, Mac."

Duncan shrugged.

They felt it, then, Duncan and Richie: the familiar buzz that signaled the presence of another Immortal.

That's when she walked in. Blonde. Green eyes. Slim. Athletic. Kinda short. DAMN sexy. And there was something else. Something in her eyes, and in the way she walked. This woman was a predator, and not so much the sexual kind, but more of the 'I'm going to tear out your throat and then gorge myself on your entrails' variety.

"... Is that her?" Richie asked.

"You're drooling, Richie," said Joe.

"Right," said Richie, staring at Buffy Summers like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. "You know when I asked about why you'd go to Rome just because she told you to? Forget it."

"Buffy," said Duncan as she arrived at the table. "Take a seat."

Richie gave the girl an incredulous look. "Buffy?" he asked.

Annoyance flickered in Buffy's eyes. "People always ask that."

Richie was quick to remove the foot from his mouth. "I can't imagine why," he said, as casually as he was able.

Buffy favored him with a faintly amused almost-smile.

Joe rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Duncan indicated his friends. "This is Richie, and that's Joe. They know."

Joe shook Buffy's hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss Summers. I've heard a lot about you."

Buffy glanced at Joe's wrist, and then met his gaze. "Watcher?" she asked.

He inclined his head. "Slayer," he said in acknowledgement.

Richie raised an eyebrow. "Er... she's a fan of dated thrash metal?"

Duncan pulled up a chair, and Buffy nodded her acknowledgement of the act as she sat down.

"Would you care for a glass?" Duncan asked, indicating the still half filled pitcher of beer on the table.

Buffy glanced at the pitcher, and her amused almost-smile returned full force. "Beer bad," she said in her best 'Cave Buffy' voice. The almost-smile faded into seriousness, and she turned towards Duncan. "How about you just tell me what you've learned?"

Duncan shrugged. "Sure, right down to business, then. I've seen no sign of the vampire Alisoun. There's been very little in the way of vampire activity in Rome at all, actually. There've been plenty of demons, though. Including a really nasty Zoroastrian demon."

Richie and Joe exchanged glances at that.

Buffy frowned. "You've been in Rome for almost a year, and that's all the intel you've gathered?"

"They serve really good beer at this place."

Buffy's expression darkened, and Duncan laughed.

"I've met with the Immortal. He knows something about what's going on."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Doesn't he always?" he asked.

Duncan went on. "He won't tell me what, but he might tell the Slayer. From what he tells me, you made quite the impression on him last time you met."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Last time we met?"

Duncan smiled, and said nothing.

"Great. So when can I meet with this... Immortal?"

"I've already set up a meeting." Duncan handed Buffy a small business card. "At that address, one week from today, 7:30 PM."

"Thanks," said Buffy. She turned to Joe. "Did you hear what happened in England?" she asked.

Joe gave her a speculative look. "What, the headquarters of the Watcher's Council going up in flames, and the majority of our leadership dying in the explosion? Nah. Not a thing."

Buffy smiled mirthlessly. "We should talk."  
"You ain't kiddin'."

"But not here." She wrote down an address on Joe's napkin. "Stop by sometime."  
Joe inclined his head.

With a quick nod to acknowledge the others at the table, followed by a, "See you around, MacLeod," Buffy stood up and headed for the exit.

As the Slayer departed, Richie watched with a silly grin. "Think I've got a chance, Mac?"

"Nope."

Richie frowned. "Couldn't you at least have pretended to think about that before answering?"

--------------------------------

It was late, and most of the world had gone to bed. The stars shone brightly overhead, and the warmth of the Roman summer was only now retreating from the back alleys down which the Slayer walked as she wended her way from the bar towards the former Watcher's Academy. She stalked through the darkness as a predator, and no vampire and no demon rose to challenge her. All too soon, she left the back alleys behind her.

As she passed the ruins of the Roman Forum, Buffy's sense of present danger flared. Something was there, and it meant her harm.

She stepped to the side and held up her hand. Something passed directly through the space where her neck had been. She caught it as it passed.

It was a tranquilizer dart.

Without even thinking about it, she flung it back in the direction it came, and there was a soft thump as the sniper atop the Forum collapsed, unconscious.

A group of swordsmen emerged from behind the pillars of the Forum, masked and clothed all in black.

"OK," said Buffy, as she dropped into a fighting stance. "We can either do this the hard way or..." she trailed off as they raised their swords. "Right. Hard way it is."

They charged. They were skilled, every one of them. But they couldn't compare to a Slayer.

The first of them went for a decapitating blow. Buffy caught him by the sword arm and twisted both arm and sword savagely behind his back. There was a sickening crack as his arm broke. That didn't stop Buffy. She used his sword (still in his hand) to parry three slashes from her attacker's companions before throwing the poor man at the man who was charging her from behind, and both went down heavily.

Another of them went low, aiming to hamstring the Slayer. To her, the attacker may as well have been moving through molasses. All she had to do to avoid the blow was shift her weight. The sword struck the ground, and sent up a flurry of sparks. Buffy quickly stomped on the flat of the blade, and it snapped. Overbalanced, the swordsman went tumbling forward. Buffy caught him easily with her left hand and threw him some twenty yards, where he landed in an undignified fashion.

A few seconds later, all five swordsmen were unconscious.

Buffy glanced down at their wrists.

Every single one of them bore the mark of the Watcher.

Half an hour later, Buffy stormed back into the bar where she had met with Duncan, Richie, and Joe, furious beyond words.

She stormed in, yes, but Duncan, Joe, and Richie were nowhere to be found.

With nowhere to direct her anger at this seeming betrayal, Buffy punched the concrete wall, leaving a significant dent, with cracks running all along it. As she departed, the disbelieving stares of the barkeeper and those few who still lingered here followed her.

------------------------------

Days passed. Slowly, the old Watcher's Academy was brought up and running. The dorms were cleaned, various fuses and lights were replaced, the water and electricity was turned back on, and various miscellaneous repairs were done. It was a lot of work, but with three Slayers, one former 'guestage,' and one very grumpy nineteen-year-old Key in human form on the job, it was getting done.

The efforts of the Scoobies around the world to find the newly awakened Slayers had met with some early success. Vi had found one while on patrol, and after discovering her situation (homeless, down on her luck), had brought her back to the Watcher's Academy, which Dawn had dubbed "Slayer Central." Andrew had wanted to call it 'Central Dogma,' but the only reaction he'd got from that was a general 'huh?'

Willow and Kennedy had found two more Slayers over in Brazil, but Willow kind of had an unfair advantage there in that she had a Slayer-Sense that she could use to track them with. So that didn't count. Giles had discovered another in England, but Xander and Robin had as of yet had no luck in Africa, and no word from any of the others sent to other parts of the world. The newly found Slayers were going to be sent to Slayer Central as soon as it could be arranged. In the meantime, those already present at the Academy were practicing to keep up their skills, and Dawn, being Dawn, had decided to practice right along with them.

It was fencing today, and Faith was doing the instructing. Or at least, she was TRYING to. The kind of formalized approach that fencing required wasn't exactly Faith's strong point.

They were in the courtyard of the single dormitory that they had gotten into working order, and they had partnered up for the purpose of the exercise. The trees that filled the courtyard provided an interesting arena for fencing, and despite the disadvantage of not being a Slayer, Dawn wasn't doing badly. Then again, Faith was most likely holding back on her. Or maybe it was the whole 'Faith' and 'fencing' combination that gave Dawn the advantage. Footwork, sword work, shuffling back and forth through the soft turf, thrust, parry, capture, disarm. They went long into the evening, and by the end of it, Dawn was thoroughly exhausted (though the others, being Slayers... not so much with the exhaustion).

Sweat dripping from her brow, Dawn leaned against the trunk of one of the larger trees in the courtyard and rested there for a moment.

"Hey half-pint," said Faith, "You still alive? 'Cause B would kill me if I broke you."

Dawn wiped the sweat from her face and put her hand on the place where branch met trunk... and frowned. There was something there. Something... plastic?

She grabbed it and pulled it under the Dorm's porch light so as to get a better look at it. Some sort of funky... electronic device? She held it up for Faith's inspection. "Faith," she began, "What's this?"

Faith glanced at the device in Dawn's hands. Her eyes widened.

------------------------------------

"You've got some nerve coming here after what you pulled, Dawson," said Buffy, her arms folded beneath her breasts as she leaned against one of the pillars of the Academy's gate.

Joe looked up. "Slayer?" he asked, his tone making it clear that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Don't play dumb. Electronic surveillance? Assassination squads with Watcher tattoos? Any of this ringing a bell?"

Joe looked confused for a long moment before comprehension dawned in his eyes. His expression hardened. "... Oh."

"Oh?" Buffy asked.

"It wasn't me, Slayer."

"And I should believe you because...?"

"Look, there are certain rogue elements within the Watchers."

"As opposed to the normal generally unhelpful elements that seem to put me and my friends in danger on a regular basis?"

Joe almost smiled at that. "Yeah. As opposed to that."

Buffy thought about that for a moment. "... All right. I'm listening."

"In the End, there can be only One. You've heard it before, right?"

Buffy smirked. "Been there, done that. Nearly bored me to tears."

"Right. Well this rogue element within the Watchers is of the opinion that no Immortal should be allowed to gain the Prize. That it's too much of a risk that an evil Immortal could win it all, and then use that power to rule humanity forever."

"So they kill them."

Joe nodded. "They kill them, thus preventing another Immortal from taking their Quickening and growing stronger."

"So what happens then?"

Joe blinked. "What do you mean?"

"When an Immortal kills another, he absorbs the soul of the defeated. And almost every Immortal has taken at least a few heads, right? So what happens to the souls of all of those Immortals when nobody takes the Quickening?"

Joe gave Buffy a strange look. "... Look. I don't know the first thing about theology or mysticism. You want answers to that kind of question, you'll need to look somewhere else."

Buffy frowned. "You know, I hear that a lot. Nobody seems to have the answers."

Joe shrugged. "That's true of everything, not just of the questions that relate to Immortals."

"Right. So why are they after me, then? Who told them I was Immortal?"

"Are you kidding? There has never been an Immortal Slayer before. Your status as an Immortal is the biggest news we've had... EVER. That's not something that's easily kept secret. And to them... well, let's just say an Immortal with the abilities of a Slayer is most definitely not a good thing. Can you imagine what would happen if she went bad? There'd be no stopping her."

Buffy sighed. "Great."

Silence fell between them for a moment. It was Joe who broke it.

"So why don't you tell me what you wanted to talk with me about?"

Buffy blinked. "What? ... Oh. Right." She glanced towards Slayer Central. "We're reforming the Watcher's Council, Joe."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Who's 'we?'"

"Me. A few of my friends. The other slayers. You, if you'll join us. Giles said you were trustworthy."

Joe smiled. "I suppose that, more than any explanation I've offered, is why I'm still alive after that attack?"

"Yup."

Joe thought for a moment. And then he frowned. "What do you mean, 'the other Slayers?' You mean that psycho Slayer they've got in prison over in California?"

Buffy laughed. "She's a part of it. And she's not in prison anymore, either. But she's only part of it." She looked closely at Joe. "What do you know about the battle with the First?"

Joe blinked. "The First?"

"Evil. The First Evil."

"You took on the First Evil?"

"And won."

Joe remained silent at that, giving Buffy a look that plainly said that he didn't believe her.

"You know how in every generation one Slayer is born? One girl in all the world with the strength and skill to fight the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness?"

Joe nodded. "I've heard the story."

Buffy smiled. "Well, the truth is, in every generation, one Slayer is born because a bunch of men who died thousands of years ago made up that rule."

Joe remained silent.

"So we changed the rule."

"What are you saying?"

"We changed it. All of those potential Slayers out there? Well, scratch the 'potential.' Every girl in the world who might be a Slayer... will be a Slayer."

Joe paled. "...Every... girl?"

"Every last one." Buffy smiled faintly. "So how about it. You in, Dawson?"

Joe thought about that for about a minute. "... Watchers aren't supposed to interfere with the Immortals. We observe and record. We don't take sides. We don't intervene."

"But Watchers ARE involved with the Slayers. The rules have changed, Dawson. You said it yourself – there has NEVER been an Immortal Slayer before. The people who wrote those rules could never have foreseen something like this."

Another minute passed before Joe finally nodded. "... I'm in." He paused a moment. "Although the headquarters was destroyed, we've still got plenty of chapter houses around the world. I can't promise much, Slayer, but I'll try and gather the people I can find."

Buffy nodded. "That's all I ask."

--------------------------

Later, in the hour just before dawn, the compound was silent. The last patrol was long since passed, and every good little Slayer was tucked in bed, safe and warm. Not a creature was stirring. Well, except for the Watcher assassination squad.

The doors to the main dormitory swung open, and a large canister was rolled in, spilling gas everywhere: a potent nerve gas, capable of killing anyone who breathed it in within minutes. It billowed over the beds, through the ventilation ducts, and slowly, seeped into every room of the dormitory.

It was only after it had spread throughout the dorm that the squad of soldiers came in through the front door. Clad all in black, each of them was equipped with both a gasmask and an assault rifle. Several bore swords as well. They went through the main dorm, past the still forms of Dawn, Vi, Rona, Shannon, and the newbie. Past Andrew's room. Past Faith's room.

They opened the door to Buffy's room and went in, silent as death. The door clicked shut behind them. She lay face down on her pillow, her long, blonde hair spilling down around her face like a waterfall of purest gold.

The lead soldier drew his sword.

And that was when Buffy rolled over and sat up. "I think that's far enough," she said. With a crossbow in hand, pointed at the leader's throat, even Buffy's gasmask couldn't conceal her feral grin.

The door swung open, and the other Slayers stepped into the room, all bearing crossbows, and all wearing masks. Then came Andrew. And Dawn. And finally, Joe Dawson stepped into the room, mask on his face, and pistol in hand.

The soldiers looked at Buffy, then at the others. Slowly, they lowered their weapons.

---------------------------

"So do you think we should expect another attack?" Buffy asked.

Joe shook his head.

The police had already left, taking the squad of soldiers to whatever fate awaited them in the Roman courts. Dawn, Andrew and the other Slayers were staying in hotel rooms now. They'd be back in the morning to get another dormitory in working order. They were working with local officials to get the gas cleaned out of the dorm that they had been using, but it would take time.

"I don't think they'd risk another attack so soon after two failures," said Joe.

Buffy nodded. "So can I count on you to take care of this from here, or do we need to get the police involved in the hunt for the people who sent those squads?"

"I think I can handle it."

Buffy nodded. "Don't disappoint, Dawson."

Joe smiled. "I never do." And with those words, leading with his cane, Joe Dawson turned and walked away.

END EPISODE 9

---------------------------

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	15. Come Undone

_Hitotsu, hitoyo no koi naraba  
Futatsu, futari de jigoku he to  
Mittsu, mina no koroshitemo  
Yottsu, yomi he no michi-shirube  
Yottsu, yomi he no michi-shirube  
Itsutsu, ikusa no chi no ame no  
Muttsu, mukuro to kawarya senu  
Nanatsu, namida no kare hate te  
Yattsu, yami yo ga tokete yuku  
Yattsu, yami yo ga tokete yuku  
_

_-------------------------------------  
_

Marcus Travers stood before the assembled Watchers. Two dozen all told, men and women, varying in age from teenagers to elderly, they were all that was left. All that survived the culling of the First. All that still held to the grand mission – to put an end to the Gathering by killing every last Immortal, one, by one. They had made their base of operations in an abandoned warehouse, all filled with dust and industrial tools. And now filled with computers, electronics, and weapons.

They stood assembled before him, fire in their eyes, each of them willing to die for the cause. They were going to save the world.

He was short, respectably handsome, clad all in tweed, and his eyes peered into the distance as though he could see far beyond the pale. His were the eyes of a visionary. With solempne solemnity, Marcus Travers spoke. "Those fools who believed in non-interference... that we should observe and record, but never intervene... are dead. Destroyed by the agents of the First Evil.

"And many good men and women are dead as well. My father... is dead. And now, in our hour of greatest darkness, the Slayer has become one of Them. Even worse, the Slayer line in its entirety... is lost to us." He shook his head. "Our mystics have just confirmed... there are no more potentials. Anywhere."

A shocked murmur went through the gathered group.

"In this, our most desperate hour, we no longer have the Slayer, the instrument by which we have waged our long war against the night. But that doesn't mean that all is lost."

He looked out over the gathering as a King upon his loyal subjects.

"It's time for us to step in. We've been taking an active role with the Immortals for some time, but now, there is a far more dangerous threat. Buffy Summers, the Immortal Slayer. Not only is she the greatest threat to humanity this world has ever seen, but even worse, she's raising an army. We have confirmed reports of FIVE Slayers in her control, not counting herself. We don't know how that happened. But a group of five Slayers, plus a large number of humans working alongside the Immortal Slayer is an imbalance the likes of which the Game has never seen.

"This... THING in human form needs to be put down. Put down like the monster she is. For the good of all humanity."

Nods and murmured agreement all around.

"My fellow Watchers. This... will be our finest hour.

"For too long, we've sat on the sidelines, 'watching,' while the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness run rampant.

"For too long, we've been dependant on the Slayer line. It's time to stand on our own. It's time to take responsibility for our mistakes."

Marcus Travers, son of Quentin Travers, smiled grimly. "My friends, it's time to save the world."

------------------------------------

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 10: Come Undone

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

------------------------------------

_One... if two people are in love,  
Two... both of them to hell will go,  
Three... even if they kill everyone,  
Four... a signpost to hell they will find,  
Four... a signpost to hell they will find,  
Five... a rain of blood follows where they go,  
Six... purified and changed,  
Tears have all dried up_

_(1)  
_

_--------------------------------------  
_

"Bring them before me," she said, her voice cold and imperious. She sat upon a throne of black marble. Not the most comfortable seat, perhaps, but she was beyond such concerns. All around her, the adoring crowd groveled, and praised, and petitioned. Hundreds of thousands. Millions. All for her. As far as the eye could see.

Her Turok-Han brought forth the prisoners, Slayers both, one light, the other dark. They were mirror images of each other, and tonight, their blood would flow like wine. They didn't go easily. No, they fought. They kicked, they bit, clawed, anything to delay the inevitable. But what they didn't do was plead for mercy. That impressed her, somewhat. Well, that and the fact that twelve Turok-Han had difficulty chaining them to the altar. But chained they were.

They raged against their bonds, struggling, fighting, trying to break free. Trying to escape. To no avail. She stood and approached them, and the train of her robes stretched out behind her.

The fair Slayer met her gaze, and there was love in her eyes mixed with fear. "Dawnie," she said, "Don't do this. There has to be some part of you in there that knows that this is wrong."

Dawn laughed. "Dawn doesn't live here anymore. When will you get that through your thick skull?" She motioned for her high priest to begin. He stepped forward.

The Master.

The Master brandished the ceremonial dagger, and looked down at the two Slayers bound to the altar with an expression vaguely akin to pity. "There, there. Don't cry." A vicious smile spread across his face. "It won't make any difference."

"Dawnie, please, don't do this!" the fair Slayer said once more, desperation in her eyes. "Dawnie, I love you! PLEASE!"

The dagger came down, and buried itself in Buffy's chest. She gasped once... and died. Even as the dagger pierced Buffy's heart, a matching wound opened on Faith. Their blood flowed out from their wound, filling the basin beneath the altar.

Despite her mortal wound, Faith struggled for life. "Not... like... this..." she gasped.

As the light faded from her eyes, the last thing Faith saw was Dawn Summers dipping a chalice into the basin full of the blood of the two Slayers, and drinking deeply.

And as she drank, the last threads of her humanity fell away. Her human form blew away like dust, and she found Herself beneath. Unimaginable. Blapshemous. Malignant. The crowd went into a frenzy at the sight of her, and began tearing into each other like beasts. All the degenerate horrors, all the unspeakable injustices that humans could inflict upon one another were carried out within the crowd; a roiling mass of blood and flesh, sweat and filth.

Dawn awoke calmly in her bed at the hotel. The room was filled with green light, even as she herself was filled with a sense of godlike satisfaction, and a sense of the rightness of such a sacrifice. Was it not her due? Was she not Yog-Sothoth? ... And then humanity came rushing in, and with it, horror and revulsion. The green light faded away, and she curled up into a ball, and began to weep.

A few minutes later, Dawn sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes still red with tears. Buffy sat next to her, holding her in a comforting embrace as Faith paced back and forth in front of the television.

"Dawnie," said Buffy, trying to put as much confidence into her voice as she could, "We're going to find out what's going on. We're going to find out why you're having these nightmares, and we're going to put a stop to it."

"How?" Dawn asked. "How are we going to stop it? Pick up a copy of 'Dream Magic For Dummies?'"

"She's got a point, B."

Buffy smiled wryly. "It shouldn't be too hard. I know a guy who knows a guy."

-------------------------------

The demon side of town was unpleasant on the best of days. Yeah, fancy that, Rome, once the capital of the Holy Roman Empire, now sporting a 'demon side of town.' You've heard the thing about God and her wacky sense of humor? Not to mention her obsession with Skiball. Yeah. Unpleasant or not, the demon side of town was where Duncan took her. Buffy did her best to refrain from killing the Grox'lar Beast they encountered in the street on the way there. The last thing she needed was to draw attention here. Unfortunately, her best wasn't good enough, and the baby-eating monster was soon lying in several pieces scattered across the street. Score one for the good guys. Or gals, as the case may be. The crowds thinned a bit after that. Still, Buffy and Duncan continued on, wending their way through the streets and alleys until they finally arrived at the entrance to a rather out of place seeming upscale club.

The club had the works. Glittering lights. Pounding music. A very surly demon bouncer. A long line of hopefuls waiting to be admitted.

"This the place?" Buffy asked.

Duncan nodded. "This is what he calls home. Are you ready for this?"

Buffy smiled faintly. "You know me..." she trailed off. "Well, except that you kind of don't." She shrugged. "Not really, anyways. But that's beside the point! Yes, I'm ready."

Duncan gave her a look, then, as if he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or not. After a moment, he gave it a mental shrug and pointed her towards the bouncer. "After you."

Buffy approached the bouncer without hesitation, completely ignoring the endless line waiting to get into the club.

The demon bouncer gave her a quick once-over. "Nomare?" he asked. It took Buffy a moment to translate that from her knowledge of Italian gleaned from the 'Italian for Dummies' book that she had purchased.

"Slayer," she said, after a long moment.

He checked his list. "Summers?"

Buffy nodded.

The demon bouncer smiled cheerfully, and said, in heavily accented English, "Go a-right on in."

Buffy went inside, and Duncan moved to follow... only to be stopped by the bouncer.

"Nomare?" the demon asked. (2)

Duncan blinked. "I'm with her."

"Nomare?"

"... MacLeod. Duncan."

The demon checked his list, and then shook his head. "Not on the list."

Duncan frowned.

------------------------------

Buffy made her way slowly through the club, steering clear of the various human and demon patrons. She barely noticed the decorations as she went, her stride filled with a singular purpose. In the back of her mind, she felt the familiar crawling pressure that signaled the presence of another Immortal.

There.

He was sitting at a table set for two. The lights around him were dimmed, and the candles on the table filled the space around it with a soft, enchanted glow. And then she saw the Immortal... and blinked.

Tight black pants.

Loose long sleeved shirt.

Dark brown hair.

Skinny.

Eyes like chips of ice.

Watcher's tattoo on his wrist.

"YOU!" Buffy exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with recognition as she pointed an accusing finger at the man.

The Immortal raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

Buffy stood there for a moment... and then embarrassment washed over her. She felt a fool. Quickly, she sat down in the chair, her face gone beet red.

The Immortal smiled. "Nice to see you again, Miss Summers."

Buffy recovered quickly. "Do you have a name, this time, or should I just call you 'The Immortal?'"

"Call me Adam."

Buffy nodded. "Adam it is, then."

A waiter approached, poured Buffy a glass of wine, and placed a bottle of beer in front of Adam before departing. Adam quickly took a sip of the beer.

"So, have you gotten yourself a sword yet?"

Buffy smiled wryly. "Not quite." She held out her hand, and the Scythe faded into existence. She held it up for his inspection.

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Impressive."

Buffy nodded. "Carrying it around everywhere isn't practical, but a Witchy friend of mine found a spell that would let me summon it at will. So it's sort of like a pager..." her voice lost some of its confidence. "... If pagers summoned mystical Scythes instead of just beeping."

Adam nodded faintly, not really seeing the connection. "... Right."

Buffy dismissed the Scythe with the wave of her hand. As it faded away, she looked closely at Adam. "So what's your story?"

"I'm very old, and very wise."

Buffy nodded. "And very humble."

Adam shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"How do you get away with all of this? Going by 'the Immortal,' and your total rockstar-ness in the demon world. Why haven't other Immortals killed you if you're making waves this big? But if what Duncan says is true, you're all myth-boy in the Immortal world."

"How much did he tell you about me?"

Buffy smiled faintly. "Enough to know that your real name isn't Adam."

Adam shook his head. "He always did have a weakness for a pretty face."

"So how do you do it?"

Methos shrugged. "People who look for Methos are looking for a great warrior, or a philosopher, maybe a seer, or a mystic. I'm just a guy. And as for the rest... it's kind of like grapefruit and milk. You have your demon world, and you have your immortal world, and never the twain shall meet. Most Immortals are as clueless about the forces of darkness as your typical person, and most demons, even if they heard about the Immortals, wouldn't care.

"And yet here's you with the rock-starness?"

Methos smiled his somehow innocently knowing smile. "Sometimes the best place to hide is right out in the open."

Buffy shrugged. He had a point.

"Let's get down to business, Miss Summers."

Buffy was visibly relieved. No more small talk. "Dream magic. Unspeakably old things made human. What do you know about it?"

Methos blinked. "What?"

"Or a Seer! Do you know any seers?"

"I thought you wanted to know the vampire situation in town?"

"I do, but this is a bit more important."

"More important than the end of the world?"

Buffy nodded.

Methos shrugged. "Alright. I'm game. I know a Seer – an old Gypsy woman. She lives about an hour's drive out of town without traffic." He wrote the address down on a napkin and handed it to Buffy. "Care to tell me what's so important about finding a seer, or someone who knows dream-magic, or really really old things in human form?" he smiled at that last.

Buffy ignored him, immediately flipping out her cell phone and relaying to Faith the information she had just received.

#I'm on it, B.# came the Dark Slayer's voice through the phone.

"Tell Dawn I'll be there as soon as I can. I'm not done here yet. The Immortal says that there's something Apocalypse-ish going down."

She could ALMOST see Faith's grin. #When you gotta save the world, you gotta save the world. No worries. I'll take care of the half-pint.#

At that, Buffy shut the phone, and met the Immortal's gaze evenly. "So... about the vampire Alisoun..."

Methos pouted. "Well, I was gonna be all dramatic about it, but I think you killed any chance that had of working."

Buffy gave him a very un-amused look.

"Right. One of the major players in the raising of the Eater of Souls is rising tonight..."

-----------------------------------

"Well," said Methos as he pushed open the door of the ancient crypt. "Here we are."

Buffy peered inside. It was dank, and filled with the smell of old decay – brittle bones and corpse-dust. "It's kind of homey," she said, using her best 'dumb blonde' voice.

Methos raised an eyebrow.

"What? I'm not saying I'd like to build a condo here, but as crypts go, it's not bad."

He shook his head, muttering something about crazy blondes. He glanced within the crypt, then at Buffy, and then began walking back the way he had come. "Right then. Have fun!"

Buffy frowned. "What, you aren't coming?"

"Interrupting demonic blood sacrifices and summoning rituals? Not how I survived for five thousand years."

The Slayer's eyes narrowed slightly at that. As she descended into the crypt alone, she took the mental tally. He was cute, yes. He was smart, yes. He was funny, sure. But apparently, he was not the type to risk life and limb for another. Not a champion.

What a shame.

She strode past coffins, cobwebs, and tomb dust, and opened the door on the far side of the crypt. It opened into a seemingly endless stairway, spiraling endlessly down into blackness. The demons were down there. She could almost smell them.

As the predatory urges of the Slayer washed over her, Buffy Summers crossed the threshold, and began the long, arduous descent into the pit.

-----------------------------------------

It took them more than an hour to get there, but get there they did. It was a small wooden home, weathered but sturdy, in the midst of a tiny village of similar homes. There was no electricity here, and it was cold, but warm firelight flickered through the window.

The Dark Slayer rapped three times on the hard wood of the door.

"Come in, come in!" the old woman called. She spoke in lightly accented English.

Faith opened the cabin's weathered front door and stepped inside, with Dawn close behind.

It was a dingy place, full of gathered dust and faded memories. A family had once lived here, but no longer. Not for a long time. There, sitting before a small wooden table, was the old woman they had come to see. The Gypsy Seer that the Immortal had recommended.

Old, yes, and withered, with the sorrowful eyes of one who has buried many children.

"The Immortal said that you could help us?"

The old woman smiled faintly. "The Immortal was correct." She turned towards Dawn, who was still hiding behind Faith. "You needn't fear, dearie. You can call me Zerlina. And though I am weary, I will help you."

Dawn stepped out from behind Faith. "Why?" she asked.

"Because you knew my daughter, Yana." Zerlina's smile faded, and sorrow crept back into her aged features. "Or at least, you remember Yana. False memories, but memories nonetheless."

"Yana?"

"You knew her as Jenny Calendar."

Dawn frowned. "How could you possibly know that I knew Miss Calendar..." she trailed off, and the Gypsy woman cackled. "Oh, right," said Dawn. "My bad. Seer."

Faith frowned. "So you gonna give us the what's what?"

"Yes, yes. Patience." Zerlina glanced at Dawn. "Well, take a seat and give me your palm, dearie. I won't bite."

--------------------------------

The chanting gave it away long before she actually arrived. The candles burning with blue flame were also a pretty big clue. There were six vampires, all standing in a circle around a large, red, glowing pentagram. In the center of the pentagram stood an altar, on which a human child lay dead, his blood seeped out into the basin below.

A seventh vampire stepped forward and threw off her cloak.

Alisoun.

"Receive our sacrifice, oh great one!" she called, holding a blue flamed candle above her head. "Come forth and bless us, child and guardian of the Gate and the Key!"

And from the blood of the innocent, it arose - a colossal and nameless blasphemy with glowing red eyes and bony claws. Dog faced, with pointed ears, a flat nose, drooling lips, scaly claws, half-hooved feet, and a mould-caked body, it arose, howling and gibbering like a mad thing.

The vampires cheered, exultant in their successful summoning of this... blasphemy. Alisoun gave out an excited squeak and did a little hop in place and twirled around. "Did you see that, Bob?" she asked. "I raised the demon! We're going to do this! It's going to work!"

And then Buffy planted the business end of the Scythe in the back of the demon's head. It collapsed to the ground in a twitching heap.

The vampires stared at the dead demon for several long moments. And then they saw Buffy.

"SLAYER..." Alisoun hissed, striding forward dangerously.

Buffy wrenched the scythe free from its place in the skull of the demon. "Alisoun."

----------------------------

Dawn sat in the chair opposite of Zerlina and held out her palm. The old woman seized it with surprising strength, and yet also with great gentleness. Her hands were like sandpaper, and it was all Dawn could do not to pull away.

Slowly, ever so gently, Zerlina traced the lines of Dawn's hand with the tip of her index finger. "Hmm," she murmured. "No life line, but then, that's no surprise. Lies and illusion, false memories, never really alive."

Dawn's face went pale at that. She tried to pull her hand away, but the old woman would not release her. With gentle strength, she continued her reading.

"Strong mental abilities, I see. Not bad. Not bad at all. But this... oh, child..."

"What?" Faith demanded, pushing forward to the table. "What's wrong?"

The old woman's grip went from gentle to savage in a heartbeat. Without a word, she drove her claw-like fingernail into the palm of Dawn's hand. Dawn cried out in pain, and Faith gave an angry shout. Before any of them could act, however, they saw what, exactly, had come spilling out of the wound. And it wasn't blood.

Light.

"Such pretty green light," Zerlina murmured. She released Dawn's hand. "I'm sorry, dearie."

Dawn stared down at her hand in horror. "What... is it?"

Faith stood motionless, unsure of how to react.

"Why, that's you, dear."

--------------------------------

Alisoun ducked underneath the swing of the Scythe. The vampire behind her wasn't so fortunate. He was decapitated before he even knew what had hit him. As the dust settled, Alisoun sidestepped a stake attempt from the reverse end of the scythe, and grinned.

"I see you've got a new toy, Slayer."

Buffy nodded, ducking to avoid the punch of one of the other vampires. "That's right," she said, staking a second vampire cultist. "It slices," she jumped over a slash from a sword wielding vampire and split him from shoulder to sternum with the business end of the scythe. He looked down, stupefied, for a brief moment before turning to dust. "It dices," She killed a fourth cultist. The other two fled, leaving their leader to face the leader alone. Buffy planted the stake end of the scythe in the ground. "It even makes julian fries..." she paused. "Julio fried? Jello frees? Whatever. It makes them."

Alisoun circled Buffy warily, looking for an opening. The Slayer's stance presented none.

"You have no idea how hard it was, Slayer. Leaving Sunnydale after I heard that you were still alive..." she spat on the ground. "I'm still interested in knowing how you survived what I did to you."

Buffy pulled the scythe free from the ground and spun it in her hands. "Get used to disappointment."

Simultaneously, Vampire and Immortal Slayer burst into motion...

---------------------------------

"I don't understand."

Zerlina sighed. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you, child."

Faith took a step forward. "Well don't keep us in suspense here! What's the news?"

Zerlina glanced towards Faith. Solemnly, she intoned. "The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be, not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned, and to us unseen. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key and the guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Her. She knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. She knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as they tread. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where Words have been spoken and Rites howled through their Seasons. The wind gibbers with their voices and the earth mutters with their consciousness. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key."

"What the HELL is that supposed to mean?" Faith demanded.

The old woman didn't respond to Faith, but instead met Dawn's gaze. "The spell that gave you human form is fading, child. They did not make you human to give you a human life," she shook her head, "but only to keep you hidden from Glorificus."

"What!?"

Tears began to leak from Dawn's eyes. "Go on," she said, ignoring Faith's outraged protest.

A sad smile settled onto Zerlina's face as she continued. "Your humanity will fade, child, and only the Key will remain. You can expect several months of horrific nightmares, but the more time passes, the less you'll see it as horrific. When they no longer bother you, you'll be lost. You can expect a resurgence of your power, but with your original memories returning to you, that may not be a good thing." She looked upon Dawn, a sad smile on her face, and pity in her eyes. "I am sorry, child."

"WHAT!?"

The old woman glanced at Faith and said nothing.

"No. This is NOT the way it goes down. There HAS to be a way to stop this."

"There is, dearie," Zerlina said, although her expression did not change. "You can kill her now, and she'll die human. She might thank you for it."

Dawn wept.

--------------------------------

Buffy shook her head incredulously. "Five minutes against Buffy plus the Scythe, and you're not dead? What are you, Mighty Vamp? Not even the Turok-Han gave me this much trouble."

Alisoun grinned ferally, blood leaking from her many wounds. "What can I say?" she ducked under a swing of the Scythe and delivered a devastating punch to Buffy's nose. "I'm just special. Chosen, you might say." The damage to Buffy's healed visibly before her eyes, and Alisoun frowned.

Buffy's eyes went wide. "... Slayer...?"

"I'd love to play with you some more, Buffy, really I would, but I have things to do, people to kill, demons to raise."

The Vampiric Slayer leaped back out of the range of the Scythe. "I really am impressed with the new toy, though."

And with that, she turned and ran for her life. Not that she'd ever call it such. Buffy pursued her, but Alisoun held the advantage here – she had had over a year to learn the tunnels beneath the city.

At length, the Slayer gave up the search, and returned to the surface world.

---------

Later...

---------

Buffy's anger THUNDERED through the hotel room. "WHAT!?"

Faith shook her head sadly. "I wish we had better news, B."

She had returned from the Slayage only to find a very broken Dawn and a heartbroken Faith waiting for her in the hotel room, and she was NOT pleased by the news that they had brought from the Seer.

Dawn spoke, and her voice was hollow. "It's all right, Buffy. You shouldn't worry. Once the spell that put me here is faded, you won't ever remember that you had a sister named Dawn."

With angry tears in her eyes, Buffy turned to face Dawn. "Dawn, how can you say something like that?" she asked. "Do you WANT to go back to being some ancient, unknowable monster?"

"It doesn't matter. What I want doesn't matter. It won't change anything."

"What about Willow?" Buffy said, desperation entering her voice. "She could do a spell..."

"We can try it," Faith ventured, "But... this is seriously dark mojo we're dealing with here. I've learned a thing or two about magic the past year. Enough to know that the kind of spell you're talking about would require the blackest of the dark powers..."

Distantly, Buffy heard the voice of Lorne, Angel's demon friend.

"Little sis isn't going to be little for much longer, sugar-puff. There's some seriously dark mystical mojo going on there, and if she doesn't make it through, the rest of the world won't be far behind."

Buffy shook her head, her fist clenched. "I can't accept this. There HAS to be some way we can... I don't know... fix the spell? Make it so Dawn won't die?"

"Well then," called an unfamiliar voice, "This is your lucky day, Slayer."

Lilah Morgan walked through the open door of the hotel room, clad in a snappy business suit.

She smiled. "Because there is."

END CHAPTER 10

----------------------------------

1 – this song is from 'Youma – Curse of the Undead'

2 – I don't speak Italian. This is the word my Italian/English dictionary spat out.

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!


	16. Of Keys and Compromise

_All of your life  
You have denied  
There'd be a time  
When you'd ever die  
Still it's been rumored this thing must be  
_

_Why do you act surprised  
When I appear now to be your guide?  
Why do you hesitate to follow me?  
See it rising  
Stare and wonder  
Hear it beckon  
You to dance  
Feel it hold you__  
Take you under  
I'm your God of second chance_

__

- Trans-Siberian Orchestra, "Mephistopheles"

---------------------

FAUSTUS:_ "And what are you that live with Lucifer?"_

MEPHISTOPHELES:_ "Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer,  
Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer,  
And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer."_

FAUSTUS:_ "Where are you damn'd?"_

MEPHISTOPHELES:_ "In hell."_

FAUSTUS:_ "How comes it, then, that thou art out of hell?"_

MEPHISTOPHELES:_ "Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it:  
Think'st thou that I, that saw the face of God,  
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,  
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,  
In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?  
O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands,  
Which strike a terror to my fainting soul!"_

- from 'The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus,' by Christopher Marlowe

---------------------------------

All eyes went to the woman in the doorway, and for a moment, there was silence as Buffy, Faith and Dawn processed what the woman had said.

"... Who are you?" Buffy asked.

Lilah stepped forward, ready to make her introduction, but Faith cut her off.

"That's Lilah Morgan, B. She's with Wolfram and Hart." Faith frowned. "Though last I heard, she was dead."

Lilah lowered the scarf around her neck to expose the scar that was left by her decapitation. "Still am, actually. Nice to see you too, Faith."

"You know each other?" Buffy asked.

Lilah nodded. "Oh, Faith and I go way back." She glanced at the Dark Slayer. "A shame about that whole you not killing Angel thing. You had potential. Plenty of initiative. But perhaps a bit too much guilt."

Faith looked troubled for a moment. "You didn't come here just to remind me about all the mistakes I've made."

"As much fun as that would be, no, I didn't." Lilah turned towards Buffy, and smiled a smile that just SCREAMED 'danger.' "I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse."

------------------------------------

Quickened

by P.H. Wise

A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 11: Of Keys and Compromise

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

------------------------------------

"So here's the deal. You pack up and leave Rome immediately. I'm sure there are places better suited to your attention: the Hellmouth in Cleveland, for example. In return, Wolfram and Hart will reset the spell that keeps the Key in human form."

Silence.

"Well, gee," said Lilah, "Don't all leap at the opportunity to save the girl's life at the same time."

It was Dawn who broke the stalemate, finally finding the will to speak. "... When you say 'reset,' what do you mean?"

Lilah's smile widened slightly. "Smart girl. It'd be a shame for such a smart girl to cease to be, wouldn't it? When I say 'reset,' I mean exactly that. The spell would be made as it was when it was first cast."

Buffy didn't like where this was going. "And in a few years, when it needed 'resetting' again?"

Lilah's smile widened into a Cheshire grin. "We would, of course, oblige. In exchange for a few minor... services."

Faith shook her head in silent admiration. "Not bad. I gotta tell you, I'm impressed. You got it all planned out, don't you? But why send you? Wolfram and Hart has an office here in Rome. Why not just send someone from there? Or why not another, living, lawyer?"

Lilah shrugged, and then spoke as if reciting an answer that someone else had given her many times. "The Senior Partners thought that the Slayer, being American, and thus having the language barrier as something of an issue, would be more comfortable meeting with me than with someone from the Rome office.

"And what with Angel being in charge of the Los Angeles office, they figured that it would be easier to send me than to complicate things by going through him." She went on in a conspiratorial tone, "Personally, I'm starting to wish that they'd just leave me to my eternal torment in Hell. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be constantly sent into the world of the living? Wolfram and Hart REALLY needs to get a new dead spokeswoman."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "I'd have thought you'd be happy to get a reprieve from the whole fire and brimstone thing."

Lilah shook her head. "Doesn't work that way, Slayer. You don't leave Hell behind when you return to the living world. It comes with you. Not so much a place as it is a state of being. You should know."

Buffy flinched at that, and Lilah laughed, and then checked her watch.

"Well, I'm dead and running late. Look, you don't have to decide right now. Think it over. What's your sister's life worth to you?" Lilah produced a small business card and handed it to Buffy. "I'll give you a week." She turned and headed out the door, calling over her shoulder. "Let me know what you decide."

The door closed heavily behind her.

Buffy stared at the card, and neither she, nor Dawn, nor Faith said a word.

----------------------------------

Days went by. The second dormitory at Slayer Central was finally brought up and running, allowing the operation of gathering and training the newly empowered Slayers to get back under way. It was uncomfortably hot these days, but it wasn't so bad in the shade of the tree-filled courtyard on the north side of the Academy campus. But a shadow was cast over everything that was done. The situation had been explained to all of the others, and anxiety gnawed at their insides like a malignant tumor. Buffy found herself less and less patient with others, snapping at almost anyone who approached her. Faith got more and more predatory, and found herself having a very hard time reigning in her natural aggression.

Dawn had the worst of it, though. It was like she had just... given up. She spent most of her time sitting listlessly on the couch in the dorm's lounge, staring blankly at the television screen regardless of whether it was on or off.

And so it remained until Willow's arrival in Rome. She'd come with two newbie Slayers in tow, leaving Kennedy to hold the fort back in Brazil.

When nobody was there to greet her at the airport, she suspected that something might be wrong, but supposed that it was possible that someone had simply forgotten to come pick them up. Casting a quick locater spell to determine the location of the school, she and the other Slayers set off on foot through the streets of Rome.

An hour later, Willow cursed her decision to go on foot (although not literally). Two hours later, she was about ready to start with the literal when the gates of Slayer Central FINALLY came into view. Breathing a sigh of relief, she led the two new Slayers through the gates with a smile. "Welcome to Slayer Central." she said.

The cheerless faces of her friends greeted her within, and Willow frowned. "Why the glum faces?" she asked.

They told her.

----------------------------------

"Somebody, help me!" the young woman shrieked. The vampire grinned widely, stalking ever closer. They were alone in a back alley. Her friends had told her to avoid this alley, but she had taken it as a shortcut home from work a million times and nothing had ever happened. Until now.

"There's no one," the vampire told her, drinking in her terror and anguish. "You're all alone." His grin turned vicious. "And you'll die alone."

She bolted, but in a burst of supernatural speed, the vampire was in front of her. She collided with him, and she fell over. He didn't budge.

She began to cry. "Please... please don't do this!" she sobbed.

He seized her by the arms, and drew in close to bite her...

"Take him down hard!" a voice called.

Gunfire rang out into the night, and the vampire staggered as dozens of bullets riddled his body. He fell to the ground, stunned, and the woman ran screaming.

The gunmen came out of hiding: a team of four of the rogue watchers on patrol, three men and a woman. The vampire hissed at them dangerously as they approached, but even a vampire needed a few minutes to heal from being fired upon by four automatic rifles.

Time he didn't have.

The female watcher produced a stake.

Several seconds later, the vampire was dust.

The team of Watchers went about the business of erasing any trace that they had been there quickly and efficiently before loading back into their black sedan and driving away.

In his car parked nearby, Joe Dawson frowned as he wrote down the license plate number of the sedan. If all went well, he wouldn't need it, but it never hurt to be thorough. But why would the rogue watchers be going after Vampires? ... Well, besides the obvious thing about them being unholy abominations that needed to be put down.

Slowly, he started his car, and followed the black sedan. So far, it had stopped to clear out two demon nests, and had saved three pedestrians from a vampire. Absently, he wondered what their next target would be. He spotted Richie Ryan coming out of a nearby club. The black sedan stopped, and so did Joe. Joe got a sinking feeling as Richie got onto his motorcycle, put his helmet on, and pulled away from the curb. The black sedan followed. So did Joe. And as he went into pursuit of the black sedan, he flipped open his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

---------------------------------

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," Buffy snapped, glaring at Willow, Faith, and Andrew. "I am NOT going to let Dawn die if I can prevent it."

They had been arguing for about an hour now, and their voices were growing noticeably hoarse. They were in the dormitory's main lounge. Dawn sat on the couch with dead eyes as the others argued over her fate. She wasn't yet catatonic, but it from the look of it, she was certainly heading in that direction.

"I'm not going to let Dawn die, either!" said Willow, "But making a deal with the devil? Not the best way of saving her life!"

"Do you know how to fix what's wrong with her?" Buffy asked with intensity in her gaze.

"... No. But we could do research, and maybe find a spell..."

Buffy laughed bitterly, and Willow trailed off with a hurt look.

"You don't want to go out into that darkness," said Faith, "and I would know. I've been there. You think you can just touch it? Flirt with it and then send it on its way?" Faith shook her head. "Doesn't work that way, B. Darkness doesn't go much for the touching. It swallows you whole."

Andrew nodded his agreement with Faith. "I think, um, you should listen to Faith. Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

The phone rang in the other room, but no one moved to answer it. It stopped ringing a few moments later, though none of them were interested to see if anyone had answered it.

Faith glanced at Andrew. "Andrew?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't help me."

Andrew nodded. "Right. Shutting up now."

Willow spoke up, then. "Buffy, I love Dawnie too, but aren't you kinda forgetting something? Starts with 'a,' ends in 'pocalypse?' Coming soon, extra flamey with the fire and brimstone, to a Rome near you? What happens to the world if we just pack up and leave?"

Buffy looked at Willow for a long moment, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Would you do the same, if it could save Tara?"

Willow went very still, her face paled, and she fell silent.

-----------------------

The black sedan pulled up alongside Richie, but he didn't think much of it until it swerved hard towards him. His eyes widened, and adrenaline shot through his body as he swerved madly to avoid the sedan. He overcompensated. He collided with the curb, and went flying from his bike.

Both bike and rider skidded across a dozen meters of pavement. The bike smashed into a parked car. Richie didn't, but skidding across a dozen meters of pavement was bad enough. Groaning, he sat up. And that was when the pain hit him. He took a quick mental catalogue of his injuries. Felt like his arm was broken in at least two places. Maybe a couple of broken ribs. And, of course, the bloody scrapes and burns that covered his hands and forearms that stung like a bitch from the long skid.

The doors of the sedan opened, and three men and a woman clad all in black stepped out, closing the doors behind them in unison. Silently, they approached the fallen Immortal.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" he demanded. "I could have been killed, there!"

One of the men cracked a smile at that. "We both know that isn't true, Mr. Ryan."

He drew a sword.

'Oh hell,' Richie thought. 'Come on, Immortal healing...'

The man went on. "But hey, I'm willing to work at it until it takes."

Richie scrambled to his feet, but in his injured state, he was no match for the Watchers. He swung a wild punch at the woman, who was the first to approach him, but she dodged it easily, with the smooth movement of a well-trained martial artist. She then returned the favor, smashing the palm of her hand into his nose. Richie cried out as his nose broke, but didn't actually have a chance to clutch at it before two of the men seized him by the arms. He struggled, but to no avail.

The woman reached out and pulled off his helmet even as their leader approached with sword in hand.

"Come on, guys, this is NOT a good day for a decapitation. Please, don't do this..."

The leader raised his sword high.

"Not like this..." he tried to shake his head, but the woman held it still. "Not like this...! HELP! MAC! SOMEBODY! HELP!"

The sword came down...

A small, feminine hand caught the sword arm of the leader by the wrist in mid-swing, stopping it cold.  
From where she stood behind the leader, Vi spoke. "I don't think the boy wants to play."

She grinned. "But I do."  
At that, she crushed the leader's wrist with a noise like a chopstick being snapped in half. He let out a gasp of pain, and his sword clattered to the ground. She threw him at the Watcher holding Richie's left arm, and both Watchers went sprawling.

There! The bones of his arm had finally knit back into place. Richie clenched his fist, and then punched the other watcher in the face with all of his strength. The Watcher staggered, losing his grip on Richie, who fell forward onto his hands and knees.

Vi was quick to follow up on Richie's blow with a kick to the Watcher's groin. The man on the receiving end sank slowly to the ground.

The last watcher – the woman – backed away from Vi and Richie, her hands held up in surrender.

Vi ignored her, and quickly helped Richie to his feet.

"You all right?" she asked as she led him away from the scene of the attack.

Richie nodded gratefully. "Yeah, thanks, whoever you are. If you hadn't stepped in..."

Vi smiled. "I'm Vi. Dawson sent me. And don't worry about it – all a part of the job."

Richie smiled a relieved smile. "That's another one I owe him." He glanced at Vi. "I'm Richie."

"I know."

"You're one of them, aren't you? Like Buffy?"

"Dawson told you about us?" Vi asked, an eyebrow raised.

Richie nodded.

The two of them continued talking as they walked away, the sounds of their conversation fading into the distance.

Once they had managed to collect themselves, the group of Watchers, with disgusted expressions, climbed back into their black sedan and drove away, not noticing the new addition to their car – a tiny metallic object on the license plate. As they drove away, Joe Dawson stepped out of the shadows, holding small LED.

He looked down at it and smiled, watching the green dot moving across the digital map of the city.

"Gotcha."

-------------------------------------

The argument was over, and Buffy was gone. Gone to meet with Lilah. They had tried, but with Dawn's very existence in danger, they had never really had much of a chance of convincing Buffy not to take the deal. Now Faith and Andrew had left as well, Faith to take out her aggression on the practice dummies, and Andrew to take out his own anger (such as it was) on the Romulan Empire in his Star Trek real time strategy game.

Dawn sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly into space.

She had been sitting like that ever since Buffy had left, and Willow was growing worried. Wordlessly, the redhead sat down next to Dawn and hugged her.

For a long moment, Dawn didn't respond. ... And then she shuddered once, fell back into Willow's embrace, and began to sob.

Willow held her like a mother holding her child, saying nothing, but rocking gently back and forth. That brought forth memories of Tara, but they were good memories. Willow let them come, and the bittersweet mixture of love and sadness that was the sole consolation of the bereaved washed over her, even as she tried to convey some kind of comfort to Dawn.

At length, Dawn's crying subsided, and she looked up at Willow.

"... You know when you know what the right thing to do is, but you really don't want to do it?"

Willow nodded. "I know."

"What do you do?"

Dawn waited for the Willow babble-fest to begin. But it didn't come. Instead, with a haunted look, Willow spoke but four words.

"What you have to."

Silence hung heavily in the room. For several minutes, they sat there as Dawn thought about that. And then slowly, ever so slowly, Dawn's resolve grew.

"I was going to start school next week," Dawn said. The tears were gone, and in their place was left a deep sadness mixed with firm resolve.

Willow nodded. "I heard."

"I had it all planned out. I was going to finish high school, start college, get a degree in demony languages, and then I could hold up a book and tell you all," she put on her best faux British accent, "'The dead are rising from their graves! Quickly, the book of Thoth will show us out to defeat them!'"

Willow laughed, and Dawn smiled faintly.

Dawn's smile faded a moment later. "But I guess that's out of the question now." She waited a beat. "Will it hurt?"

Willow shook her head sadly. "I don't know."

A moment passed. "Wanna go back?" Willow asked. "End the pain?"

Dawn thought about that. Willow had asked her that before. But this time, there was no malice in her voice. Only sadness, mixed with love.

So she thought about it. And at length, she found an answer.

"No."

She knew what she had to do.

Wordlessly, Dawn stood up, and green light sprang up around her. A crackling portal split the air in front of her. She stepped through, and it vanished with a flash.

And Willow sat there alone on the bed, a thoughtful expression on her face.

-----------------------------------------------

The night was cold, especially in light of how warm the day had been. Shivering slightly, Buffy approached the Coliseum. It was closed for repairs, but this was the address on the card that Lilah had given her. Bathed in moonlight, it was almost inappropriately beautiful as a meeting place for the kind of deal that was going to be made tonight.

Lilah stepped out of the shadows of one of the pillars.

"Do we have a deal, Miss Summers?" she asked.

Buffy nodded, full of weary resolve. "We have a deal."

Lilah smiled, and produced a contract, complete with its own clipboard and pen. "You'll need to sign it in blood, of course." She handed the clipboard to Buffy. "Just sign it on the dotted line." She paused. "Oh, and you'll need to initial here," she pointed to a spot halfway up the contract, "concerning your immortal soul."

"Of course," Buffy echoed, horror welling up within her at what she was about to do, and yet determined to do it anyways.

For Dawn.

Wordlessly, she produced a knife and cut open the tip of her index finger. She replaced the knife, and reached out to sign her name on the contract.

In that moment, a crackling green portal split the air. Buffy and Lilah spun to face it, both of them clearly alarmed at its appearance.

Dawn stepped through.

Buffy stared.

"Well?" said Lilah, recovering quickly from her surprise. "I don't have all night."

Buffy closed her mouth with an audible click, and then placed her finger on the dotted line to begin her signature.

"Buffy, no!" Dawn cried. She opened her hand, and the contract vanished in a flash of green light before reappearing in Dawn's hands. She tore it up and threw the pieces into the wind. Sadly, Dawn shook her head. "I can't let you do this, Buffy. It's not the way."

Her eyes flashing with anger, Buffy rounded furiously on Dawn. "I'm trying to SAVE you!"

"By selling your soul?"

"If I have to!" A note of desperation crept into Buffy's voice. "I can't lose you, Dawn." She shook her head in a horrified denial of the very idea of Dawn's death. "Not after everything..."  
Dawn walked right up to Buffy and looked her directly in the eye. "Buffy, if you do this, **I'm** going to lose **you**. And I've already lost you once. I don't want to do it ever again. We'll find another way."

"And what if there IS no other way?"

"We'll find one."

Buffy looked up at her younger sister, struck by the irony of the situation. Usually, wasn't it Dawn who was running off and doing something foolish, and Buffy who had to be the mature one and save her? "Promise?" she asked, with tears in her eyes.

"I promise."

The two sisters embraced, and then both of them were crying. They would either save Dawn or they wouldn't, but there would be no compromise with the darkness. No souls would be traded for favors this night. And then Dawn waved her hand, and they vanished with a green flash.

And as the two Summers girls vanished, Lilah Morgan smiled her first genuine smile since Wesley's ill-fated attempt to burn her contract, and for a moment, the pain of hellfire faded.

END CHAPTER 11

---------------------------------

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!


	17. Without You

_It's never over,  
my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder  
It's never over,  
all my riches for her smiles  
when I slept so soft against her  
It's never over,  
all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter_  
_It's never over,  
she's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever_

- Jeff Buckley, "Lover, You Should Have Come Over"

------------------------------------

"Hey, baby. It's me."

"I know. Buffy wants me to stay for a bit, because, you know, big Apocalypse brewing."

"Yeah, I know there's always one of those, but the thing about Apocalypses is, you don't stop them, world go poof."

"...You did?"

"She did?"

"Oh."

"Oh!"

"All right. I'll call again as soon as I can."

Willow hung up the phone with a pensive look. She knew that she should be able to trust Kennedy alone in Rio... but those little doubts just kept on nagging at her. Devil Willow, sitting on her left shoulder, could be awfully vocal at times. She took a deep breath. It was no use being a worry-wart... worry-wart? Did you really get warts from worrying? Could you look at a person and say, "Hey, look at that wart, looks like she was worrying too much?" ... Probably not.

Still, even at the best of times, her relationship with Kennedy just didn't feel quite right. It wasn't Kennedy's fault, really. They loved each other, certainly. They had to, didn't they? They were a couple, and that's what couples did. And they had great times together, especially since leaving Sunnydale. So why did it seem like there was something missing, even during their best moments together? Something important. Kennedy just wasn't...

"Tara."

The word was spoken softly, and Willow's face fell. That familiar grief-tinged warmth came rushing over her at the thought of her dead lover. For a moment, the sense of Tara's presence was so intense that Willow actually looked over her shoulder, expecting to see her there.

Nothing.

Dust motes floating in the light.

Willow tried to ignore the aching of her heart.

------------------------------

Quickened

by P.H. Wise

A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 12: Without You

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

-------------------------------

It was a slow night at Slayer Central. No vampire activity to speak of, and the demons were laying low. Several patrols had been sent out, but the worst they had run into was an attempted mugging. Even so, there was a certain tension in the city of Rome. You could feel it in the air – the storm was coming, and although it was yet calm, thunderheads were gathering on the horizon.

The Slayers could feel it more intensely than the others; that nagging awareness that something was off; that distant sense of building wrongness. It tended to make them extra-cranky.

Speaking of Slayers, they had found quite a few more with Willow actively on the job (as opposed to partying with Kennedy in Rio). In the week since Willow's arrival, they had recovered six newbies, four of whom had been right under Giles' nose in England, with another two in Prague. Giles had gathered up the four in England and flown in a few nights ago.

Buffy had asked her one night exactly how many Slayers there were in the world, and Willow had smiled the strangest smile before replying, "Lots." She could just see Tara's reaction to that same comment: a shy, goofy, sexy smile...

Well, that didn't work. No matter how hard she tried to distract herself, Willow's thoughts always seemed to come full circle and land on Tara, who was precisely who she was trying not to think about.

She could feel Buffy and Faith through the link that had formed between them on the day of Buffy's resurrection, even if none of the three had ever wholly acknowledged it. It was similar to the link she felt to the newly called Slayers, and yet different in that Buffy and Faith could sense her as well, and each other, while the link with the other Slayers was strictly one way. That was another thing to bring up at the council meeting, she supposed. That and the question of how they had survived casting the Spell of Life in the first place. It made her cringe to think of the kind of power she had just casually played with in those days. If Tara hadn't been there... and there she went again.

"Come on, me," she said. "Don't be a big dummy. Kennedy is here for you, now."

Willow's heart sank.

--------------------------------

Dawn scowled at the schoolbook that lay open before her.

She hadn't anticipated this particular consequence of convincing Buffy that they were going to fix what was wrong with the spell that kept her human. She'd been determined to enjoy what little time she had left. Buffy had decided that if she wasn't going to give up on Dawn's survival, then she wasn't going to let Dawn get away without continuing her studies.

So here she was, sitting in the library at Slayer Central, pouring over a calculus book. Giles was rummaging through the stacks, and the sound of Faith and Buffy's training session with the newbie slayers came drifting in from outside.

At length, the sounds of training faded, and Faith came walking into the library, heading for the water fountain near the entrance. She leaned over and took a long drink from the cool water before glancing over at Dawn at her table. "Hey," she called. "What's B got you studying?"

Dawn met Faith's gaze. "Complicated pebbles," she deadpanned.

Faith was nonplused, but the sound of Giles' faint laughter drifted out from behind the stacks.

Dawn half smiled. At least SOMEONE got the joke.

After a beat, Faith spoke again. "You sure you wouldn't rather be livin' it up?" An ironic smile graced her lips, "I know if my days were numbered, that's what I'd be doing."

"Says a Slayer."

Faith shrugged. "I'm just sayin' is all."

Dawn rose to her feet. "For your information, my days aren't numbered." She waited a beat. "Except in the way that everyone's days are numbered." Another beat. "Except Buffy's days, that is." A final beat. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Faith nodded, her ironic smile shifting several points in the spectrum towards amused. "Yup."

Dawn blushed. After a moment, she asked, "Are you going to be ready for the big council meeting that Buffy's called?"

"Rock 'em sock 'em."

"Huh?" Dawn asked.

Faith looked annoyed. "Yeah, I'll be ready. How about you? You ready to wow everyone with your new powers?"

"I guess," Dawn replied.

The sound of voices came drifting in from outside, signaling the approach of Buffy and Willow.

"... so I need you to book Xander a flight..." Buffy was saying, with Willow nodding her understanding.

Dawn spoke up, interrupting Buffy. "Don't bother. I'll get him."

All eyes went to Dawn.

"Maybe that's not such a good idea..." Buffy began.

Dawn didn't listen. Concentrating intently, her eyes lit up with a green glow. A crackling portal snapped into being directly in front of her, and Xander stepped out a moment later.

He promptly freaked.

"Ye GADS!" he said, eyes widening as he whirled around to take in his new surroundings. He calmed slightly when he saw where he was, and who had brought him here. "Geeze, Dawnmeister, next time, call before you..." he waved his hands dramatically before creasing his brow in worry. "And since when were you big with the mojo, anyways?"

That was when he noticed what the others were staring at – not him, but at the library table.

The table that they had been planning to hold their big meeting at.

The table that Dawn's portal had sliced cleanly in half.

All eyes went to Dawn.

"Umm... oops?"

-----------------------

In the end, when all of the difficulties and all the insanity inherent in planning a meeting of the new Watcher's Council had been dealt with, and all of the necessary people had been assembled, they gathered there in the library, seated in a large circle around the remains of the table that they had intended to use. There sat Buffy, with Xander on her right, and Willow on her left. There sat Dawn. And Giles. Faith. Joe Dawson, with Methos at his side. Several others were present as well, representatives of the new Watchers Council, survivors of the battle at the Hellmouth who had been sent to the middle-east and Asia.

There were many things discussed. Things were going well in Africa, especially in the less civilized areas. Apparently, when the Watcher's Council had been formally established in England, the older order of Shadow-Men had not gone gently into that long night, but had quietly persisted there, watching and waiting. The more primitive the area, the more likely it was that there were members of the old order present. Even in civilized areas, you could generally count on finding at least one or two. Xander and Robin had made great progress in bringing the older order into an alliance with the new Watcher's Council, even though memories were long, and the Shadow-Men had never forgiven the original Council for their racist exclusion of every last member who had not been white back during the time of its founding.

Things were going well in Japan, though they were having some trouble in China with the local authorities, who were naturally distrustful of the sort of people that seemed to gravitate towards Watchers and Slayers.

The Middle-East, though, that was a problem, mostly on account of the dangers inherent in being a woman in that area. Visibly strong women were almost unheard of in some areas, and in the worst places, going outside without being veiled would literally get acid thrown in your face by a fanatical male. Not to mention that the very existence of a Slayer was seen as a challenge to the traditional patriarchal way of society, and many of the religious zealots did not take kindly to anything that challenged their way of life. And that raised all sorts of uncomfortable questions about the Slayer's role in society – should she be a protector only, or should she be an agent of change as well? At present, secrecy and security were the primary concerns in that area, although there were certainly more problems than just that. Keeping the two Israeli Slayers and the four Islamic Slayers from killing each other required near Herculean efforts. It was at that point that Giles made a muttered comment about the whole area having gone downhill in the wake of the purge of most of their artists, philosophers, writers, and scholars some seven centuries earlier. Even so, it wasn't all bad, and the Watchers Council had found allies in unexpected places. Those clerics who really did have a clue about what was going on in the world (read: knew about demons and vampires) were all too happy to have the help of active Slayers.

America... well, they didn't actually have anyone in America at the moment. Out of all of the nations in the world, America had been hit the hardest by the First's purge of potential Slayers. Oh, some had survived, but they were much more uncommon there than in other parts of the world. There were two confirmed active Slayers in the United States, although Willow said she could sense more than that – one was a girl named Cassie Fraiser out in Colorado, and the other, Dana, who was in Los Angeles.

"Hey," Faith said, "No problem there. If she's in Los Angeles, then Angel and his crew can find her for us and send her on over."

Buffy shook her head sadly. "Angel's not playing for our team anymore."

Faith's expression went stormy at that. "What?"

"He's the new CEO of the Los Angeles branch of Wolfram and Hart."

"WHAT!?"

Xander smiled sardonically. "Anyone who's surprised by this, raise your hand?"

Faith brought her angry glare to bear on Xander. "Can it, Zeppo. The rest of you think whatever you want, but I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt. I owe him that much, at least."

Buffy looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do ya think he lost his soul again?"

"He should really learn to keep better track of that," Xander quipped.

Willow shook her head. "No, he couldn't have – cause the last time I put it back in him, I decided that enough was enough, and I kinda, well, changed the spell a bit."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Well, this time I cast it without that annoying perfect happiness clause. So if he's gone evil, it's because he's chosen to, not because he's all soulless."

"I'm tellin ya," said Faith, "We should have a little more faith in him than that."

"Be that as it may," said Giles, "Even if he is still trustworthy, the good people at Wolfram and Hart most certainly are not. And it raises the uncomfortable question of exactly how long he'll remain trustworthy if he remains in that position." He took off his glasses and cleaned them. "Run down the list of the companies that they represent, and you'll find most of the greatest enemies of mankind. Weyland-Yutani. Yoyodyne. Newscorp. And that's only for starters."

"Any recommendations?" Buffy asked.

Giles shrugged. "Andrew has made excellent progress in his training to be a Watcher. I suggest we send him to retrieve this 'Dana,' as well as Miss Fraiser."

Faith rolled her eyes. "Don't send Watcher-Boy without backup. He'd need at least a dozen Slayers just to avoid getting killed."

Methos spoke up then. "You joke about it, but you're probably right. You don't want to mess around when Wolfram and Hart is concerned. They're as dangerous as they come."

"Speaking from past experience, Adam?" Buffy asked.

Methos shrugged. "Let's just say I know enough to know that you don't take half measures where they're concerned."

"Right," said Buffy, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Dozen Slayers."

Joe Dawson was giving his report now, giving Buffy his findings on the renegade Watchers. Faith shifted uncomfortably as she heard the news. They were killing Immortals, yes. But they were also fighting demons and vampires, and protecting the normal humans.

"I don't suppose there's any chance of convincing them that not all Immortals are evil?" Willow asked.

Joe shook his head. "They're pretty fanatical about it. Their leader's name is Marcus Travers, and he... well, he's very charismatic, very brilliant, but not particularly tolerant."

The expressions of the original Scoobies went dark at that. "Any relation to Quentin Travers?" Dawn asked.

Joe nodded. "Yeah, he's the old man's kid. You people knew Quentin?"

Buffy nodded faintly. "We've had the displeasure."

Joe laughed. "Yeah, that was Quentin. A son of a bitch, but very good at what he did. Anyways, I've typed it all up in my report."

Buffy nodded. "And that brings us to... Mr. Pierson." She glanced at Methos.

Methos nodded, and began his tale of his efforts to locate and gather up those Watchers who had survived the First's purge. It was slow going, mostly on account of the fact that most of them didn't want to be found, but he had successfully convinced some twelve of them to join the new Council thus far. He had met with more than that, but many of them were uncomfortable with the idea of having an Immortal as head of the council, much less an Immortal Slayer.

As Methos concluded his report, Buffy nodded tiredly. "Right. Giles, you're up."

Giles nodded, and began his own report. "Much of my own efforts have gone towards research into the entity known as Eater of Souls, and it is quite a frustrating field of study. Many of the accounts on the matter are contradictory, written hastily in a haze of panic and fear. I have, however, found one promising lead: an authoritative book on the subject, currently held within the vaults of the Vatican."

Methos grinned faintly. "But here's the question, do the Vatican's vaults really contain confiscated tomes on Witchcraft, Sorcery, and Demonology, or are they just full of medieval pornography?"

Faith laughed, as did Xander and several others. Joe rolled his eyes. Giles became flustered, and couldn't continue for a few moments. At length, he regained his composure and went on. "Yes, well, the old Watcher's Council had an arrangement with the Vatican, but there's no guarantee that the Pope will honour it with the new."

And that brought them to Willow.

"Um, right. I've been looking into Dawn's problem. And Buffy's problem, too."

The others looked at her expectantly, and with a nervous laugh, she went on.

"The first thing I should say is that..." she looked at Buffy. "You know the spell that made you Immortal?"

Buffy smiled ever so faintly, though it was more a bitter smile than anything else. "No, I'd forgotten all about it."

Willow nodded. "Apparently, it had some consequences that we didn't, you know, know about."

"Tell us something we don't know," said Buffy.

"Julius Ceaser had a thing for toes," Yeah, that was Methos.

Joe laughed. The others stared blankly at the oldest Immortal for a long moment before Willow continued.

"For one thing, it kinda made a link between you, Faith, and me."

"A link?" Faith asked, frowning.

"You know how you can kinda sense where Buffy and I are pretty much all the time?"

"Isn't it that way with all the other Slayers?"

Willow shook her head. "No, that's more of a one way thing. I can sense them, not the other way around."

"So what's your point, Red?" Faith asked. "I dunno about you, but being able to sense your and Buffy's presence? Not the most horrifying side-effect I can imagine."

"Well, we don't know WHY we can sense each other. If it was just Buffy and I, I could understand, but why are you in the link as well? And we also don't know if there were other side effects. I think it's worth researching."

Buffy shrugged. "All right. What about Dawn's problem?"

"Oh yeah," said Willow faintly, "That." She waited a beat. "I might have found something that will help, but I don't know if it's a very good idea to use it." Willow paused a moment as that information sank in. "What I mean is, it would slow down the decay rate of the spell and everything, but it involves big time dark primordial powers."

"Do it," said Buffy.

Willow frowned. "I don't know that you understand what you're asking, Buffy..."

"I'm asking you to save Dawn."

Willow met Buffy's gaze evenly. "So it's not OK for you to sell your soul to Wolfram and Hart to save her, but it's perfectly OK for me to consign my soul to darkness?"

Buffy flinched.

"And there's another thing: anyone else think that Wolfram and Hart's timing in sending that Morgan woman over here was just a LITTLE bit convenient? Did they know about the situation beforehand? Or was that Seer working for them to begin with?"

Buffy glared at Willow. "I don't have the answers here. I'm trying to figure it out just like all the rest of you." Her expression softened at that. "Look, everyone. I know things haven't been easy. But things that are worth doing are rarely easy. It's been rough, but we're doing this. We're going to build something that will last. We're GOING to stop this Apocalypse, save Dawn, and stop anything else that comes out way. There's no one else who can."

----------------------------------

Some time later, the meeting over and done with, Buffy sat behind her desk in the Slayer's dorm, trying to get things done. It was amazing how much paperwork was required for the establishment of the new council.

Buffy hated paperwork.

Xander knocked on the open door.

Buffy looked up. "Something I can do for you, Xander?"

"Hard at work, Buffster?"

She smiled faintly. "You have no idea."

Xander nodded. "Probably not. But when was the last time you did anyone for fun?" Xander waited a beat. And then he turned beet red. "... AnyTHING. Any THING for fun."

Buffy laughed. "I missed you, Xander."

"So when WAS the last time you did anything for fun?"

Buffy didn't have an answer. She hadn't had time lately for... well, anything. With one thing after another after another, she'd been in near constant Slayer mode for the last few months.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "So what would you suggest?"

--------------------------

Ten minutes later, Xander, Buffy, Willow, and Dawn departed from Slayer Central, on their way for some serious shopping.

"So," Dawn asked, a silly smile on her face as they went out, "Do they even HAVE malls in Rome?"

END CHAPTER 12

---------------------------------

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!


	18. Cassandra

They brought her out of the dark together, Angel and Wesley. Out of the greater darkness and into the lesser. She was bound to her gurney, and she thrashed and writhed like a caged beast. A group of armed guards flanked them on either side.

"Chain her into the van," Angel ordered. "I want armed guards ridin' with her in the back."

Andrew came up from the basement. "That's all right, boys. I'll take it from here."

Angel quirked an eyebrow and gave Andrew a dubious look. "What?"

Andrew held up a conciliatory hand. "Totally 'preciate your help on this one, big guy. Never could've found her without you, but you got enough problems of your own to worry about."

"Get outta the way, Andrew."

Andrew stepped into Angel's path, between the van and the vampire, and his armed guards. "She's a Slayer," he said, filled with resolve, "That means she's ours."

"Yeah. Sorry. Not how it works." Angel looked towards the guards. "Load her up. Don't hesitate to tranq her if she so much as..."

Andrew took an aggressive step forward and stood up as straight as he could. "No. I don't think you heard me, Angel." As he spoke, a group of young women came walking out of the shadows of the nearby buildings to back up the would-be-watcher. "Think we're just gonna let you take her back to your evil stronghold? Well, as they say in Mexico... No. We're not... gonna... let you."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "She's psychotic, and I'm not turning her over...to you."

Andrew shook his head. "You don't have a choice. Check the view screen, Uhura. I got twelve Vampyr Slayers behind me, and not one of them has ever dated you. She's coming with us one way or another."

Angel's cold anger radiated through his entire bearing as he spoke. "You're way outta your league. I'll just clear this with Buffy."

"Where do you think my orders came from? News flash—nobody in our camp trusts you anymore. Nobody. You work for Wolfram & Hart. Don't fool yourself... we're not on the same side. Thank you for your help... but, uh...we got it." Andrew gestured to the Slayers, who moved forward to collect the gurney. And then he and the Slayers departed, leaving Angel, Wesley, and the guards standing there in silence. In the dark.

------------------------------

Quickened   
by P.H. Wise   
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 13: Cassandra

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. I don't own Stargate. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

Note: This episode contains a crossover with Stargate SG-1, and contains spoilers for the Stargate SG-1 episode entitled 'Heroes.'

Furthermore, this episode contains text taken from the Angel season five episode entitled, 'Damage.'

-------------------------------

Several Months Ago...

-------------------------------

It was a quiet dinner in the Fraiser home, with just the two of them – mother and daughter – sitting side by side. Well, adoptive mother and daughter. But considering that Cassie's real mother was not only dead but also somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, this was about as close as it got. Still, despite the adoptive nature of their relationship, the familial love that they shared filled the house with warmth. The smell of grilled chicken and asparagus wafted through the dining room, and there, with plates and cups before them, sat Cassie and Janet Fraiser.

Cassie, now nearing her eighteenth birthday, had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her long light brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, and her clear blue eyes danced with laughter.

"So," Janet began, "Did he ask you?"

"Ask me what?" Cassie asked, her tone radiating innocence.

"To prom, of course."

Cassie smiled. "He might have."

"And...?"

"And what?"

Janet rolled her eyes. "You're determined to make this difficult, aren't you? What did you say?"

Cassie's smile widened. "I... might have told him I'd think about it..."

Janet laughed. "You'd think that after two years of seeing the boy, you'd stop making him sweat." She took a bite of her dinner, and then a sip of water.

Cassie raised her own glass to her mouth and took a sip. "Oh, but I..." Cassie blinked, sweat breaking out across her face.

Janet frowned. "Cassie?"

"I..." Cassie struggled to form the words. Her hand tightened around her cup. The cup shattered a few seconds later. Shards of glass cut deeply into her hand, but she didn't notice. A moment later, she collapsed, and the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was a strong, female voice.

"Make your choice," the voice told her. "Are you ready to be strong?"

------------------------

Cassie awoke several hours later in a bed in the SGC hospital. An IV drip was attached to her arm, and her head was throbbing. She'd dreamed of... very strange things. As she cracked open her eyes and tried to sit up, she thought she heard distant voice.

"She's awake," the voice called. "Get Doctor Fraiser."

Her vision swam for a few moments before her eyes were able to focus properly. There. Samantha Carter and Jack O'Neill stood over her bed, both of them smiling down at her.

"How ya feelin'?" Jack asked.

"Like I got run over by a truck," she replied.

Jack nodded.

"This is getting to be a habit with you, Cassie," Sam said, as she reached out and squeezed Cassie's hand.

Cassie laughed and squeezed back. "I'm all righ-" She was interrupted by Carter's sudden yelp of pain, and frantic twisting to get her hand out of Cassie's grip.

Sam stared at her hand in shock, as did Jack and Cassie. All Cassie had done was squeeze, and Carter's hand was visibly bruising.

Carter and O'Neill exchanged looks.

"Cassie, remember that little talk we had?" Jack asked.

"The one about collapsing and then waking up with superpowers?"

Jack nodded. "That's the one."

"Not on Tuesdays?"

Jack nodded a second time. "Not on Tuesdays."

"Sorry."

----------------------------------

Several hours later, Carter, O'Neill, and General Hammond sat around the briefing room table as Doctor Fraiser gave her report on Cassie's condition. Dr. Jackson and Teal'c were both off world. Each of them had a folder before them containing various test results.

"I can't explain it, Sir," Janet said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Her muscle density is significantly increased, but that's only part of it. The strength she's displayed is far in excess of what increased muscle density could account for." Doctor Fraiser shook her head, "Her white blood cells are almost... supercharged, somehow, her cat-scan shows increased brain activity, much of it in areas of the brain that are usually dormant, and she has some kind of foreign element in her blood. It's not naquadah, but it may be similar."

"This is not the first time something like this has happened," General Hammond began. "Is it possible that Nirrti's experiment was successful after all? That she really is..." he paused, trying to recall the term that Teal'c had used, "A Hok'Taur?"

"At this point, I'm not willing to rule out anything. There's no trace of the retrovirus that caused her changes the last time, but it's possible that the changes it made to her DNA are responsible for her current situation. With the enhanced strength, the supercharged immune system... If I didn't know better, I'd say that she had become a host."

Jack remained silent. This wasn't really his area of expertise.

Sam spoke up, then. "I haven't sensed the presence of a symbiote. But regardless of whether or not this is the result of Nirrti's experiment, we can't let this get out. Right now, Cassie is the ideal host. The Goa'uld would kill to get their hands on her."

"Carter," Jack began, "They're snakeheads. They'd kill for peanuts."

Sam rolled her eyes, and Hammond made a valiant effort to appear unamused.

"Has there been any change in Cassie's behavior since this began?" Hammond asked.

Janet shook her head. "No, Sir. So far as I can tell, there have been no behavioral changes. She's Cassie."

"With superpowers." That was O'Neill, and as irreverent as ever.

If the situation had been less serious than it was, Janet would have laughed. "I'd like to keep her here under observation for a few days, Sir. But beyond that, if this doesn't just go away as her telekinetic abilities did last time..."

Carter's eyes lit up with understanding. "How is a normal girl going to handle suddenly being physically superior to pretty much every other human on the face of the earth?"

Hammond thought about the situation for a moment. "The sociological implications of Cassie's situation aside, if Nirrti really is responsible, she may make another attempt at capturing Miss Fraiser. I'm going to order the whole base swept with TER scans. Keep an eye out, people."

----------------------

Months went by, and no Goa'uld came for the young Cassie Fraiser. Gradually, life returned to normal. Well, as normal as it got for an extra-terrestrial human refugee who'd been adopted by a woman who worked as a doctor for the Stargate project. For a while, it seemed as though Cassie was going to be perfectly fine – she was Cassie, but now with superpowers.

And then the dream came.

It was a dream of darkness, and of death. Of vampires, and of demons. Of Slayers and Watchers. And of Janet meeting her death on a faraway world.

Cassie tried to ignore the dream for several weeks, but every night it returned, and more horrifically than before. Eventually, she took action. She pleaded with her mother not to go off world anytime in the near future. Janet told her that she couldn't make any promises. Cassie then insisted that if Janet were going off world any time soon, she needed to come along as well. But Janet only smiled, and said nothing. And when the call finally came, Cassie was left behind.

And Janet Fraiser died.

---------------------------

The phone dropped from Cassie's nerveless hand, and for a long moment, she stood there in shock, saying nothing. Jack's voice rang faintly through the receiver."Cassie?" he asked. "Cassie, are you there?"

But Cassie wasn't there. And she didn't cry. There was grief, yes. But there was also rage. And something else. Something... predatory. Her emotions boiled, surging until they were like a second skin. And then she was gone into the night. She wasn't aware of the route she took through the city. She didn't know where she was going, but only that she needed to hunt.

A blur of light and shadow. Sound and silence. A scream rang out in the night, and in an instant, Cassie was there.

A man – a vampire – drank from the neck of an unconscious woman. And even as she saw the creature, she knew what to do. She tore a chunk of wood out of a nearby bench. The need to destroy filled her, and she loosed it upon the unholy beast.

Dust in the wind.

That was when she saw them.

Other girls. Young women. Watching her.

The haze shattered like glass. Fully aware, Cassie Fraiser turned and ran as fast as she could go. The wind whipped around her as she ran, and her clothing tore in the friction her speed created.

She ran home. The door was open, and she closed it as she entered. "Mom?" she called, not remembering what had sparked her panicked flight into the darkness. And then the reality of her situation hit her. The terrible, horrific emptiness of the house washed over her, and the bottom of her heart fell out. Cassie fell to her knees there in the entryway.

She wept.

-----------------------

Back in Rome, Duncan packed, preparing to depart. Various items went into the suitcase, and then he discovered a picture of Tessa. His feelings stirred at that, only to sink a moment later. He held it for a long moment.

That was how Methos found him, staring at the picture of his long-dead lover.

"Going somewhere?" the oldest man asked.

Duncan buried the picture in his suitcase before nodding to the other Immortal.

"Why?"

Duncan turned towards Methos. "What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question, MacLeod."

Duncan didn't say anything for a long moment. "... I'm still not sure why I came here in the first place. But all I've done since I arrived was watch, and wait. I'm tired of wasting time here. It's time to go back to living."

Methos laughed.

"What?" MacLeod asked.

"The idea of an Immortal upset about "wasted time" struck me as funny. So why are you really leaving?"

Duncan shook his head, and glanced out the window of his apartment onto the Roman streets below. "I don't know," he said at length. "There's something wrong here. It just feels... like I should be elsewhere."

Methos nodded. "We all feel that."

"What is it?"

Methos grinned. "That'd be your instinct for self preservation working overtime, Highlander."

Duncan clearly didn't understand, so Methos spelled it out for him.

"You're sensing the stirrings of Eater of Souls, MacLeod. With the amount of power that thing is putting out, every immortal on the continent will be sensing it, and the older you are, the greater the sense of impending doom."

Duncan frowned. "If you can sense it that strongly, why are you still here?"

Methos didn't reply.

-------------------------

A sudden knock echoed through the silent house. Someone was at the door, and yet Cassie couldn't bring herself to care. The knock repeated itself a few times, but Cassie, caught up in her sorrow (and still majorly wigging from her experience several nights previous), simply sat there, sunk into the leather reclining chair as far as she could sink. The knock came again, and again. Finally, Cassie rose to her feet and walked... no, more like stalked over to the door.

She opened it a crack and peered out into the harsh light of day.

The entirety of SG-1 stood on her doorstep.

"What do you want?"

Sam smiled sadly. "You didn't come to the service, Cas. We were worried."

"Can we come in?" asked Jack.

Cassie hesitated, and then Teal'c spoke up.

"We have brought Star Wars and Pizza," the Jaffa announced, holding up the entire Star Wars Trilogy and a pizza box as evidence.

Cassie looked at the four of them for a long moment... and then laughed, albeit heavy heartedly, and opened the door.

-------------------

"Sister!" said Lord Vader, his surprise warring with vicious delight, "So...you have a twin sister. Your feelings have now betrayed her, too. Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will."

Hours had passed, and SG-1 was now well into Return of the Jedi. The pizza box was empty, lying discarded upon a table, and Cassie had finally fallen asleep, her head on Sam's shoulder.

"How's she doin', Carter?" Jack asked.

Sam looked down at the young woman's sleeping form and smiled. "She's dreaming."

Jack nodded. "Good."

Daniel breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just relieved that she's able to sleep at all. Losing a loved one..." he trailed off, unable to complete that sentence.

"Indeed," said Teal'c.

A few minutes passed in silence as the rest of the movie went by. The quiet was short-lived. As the credits began to roll, Cassie jolted into wakefulness, her eyes full of panic.

"They're coming!" she cried, pushing away from Sam. "Don't let them take me away!"

Sam attempted to gather the panicked young woman into a hug, but failed to take the girl's Slayer strength into account. Sam was knocked to the floor, and Cassie backed into the corner of the room. Undeterred, Sam followed her and hugged her.

"Nobody is going to take you away, Cas," she said, looking straight into the young Slayer's eyes.

The doorbell rang.

Cassie flinched at the noise. "They're here," she whispered, horrified.

Sam, Jack, Teal'c and Daniel exchanged glances, and then looked towards the door.

-----------------

Methos sat alone in Duncan's apartment. Duncan had stepped out for some last minute errands in preparation of leaving town. The lights were out, and the oldest immortal was nursing a beer.

Not for the first time, Methos wondered why he himself had not yet skipped town. Every time he thought about it, there were always a hundred reasons to stay. There was work to be done with the new Watcher's council. MacLeod was here. Dawson was here.

But MacLeod was leaving, and as his Watcher, Dawson would probably go with him. So why, even now, did he have trouble with the idea of packing up and leaving?

Abruptly, the cobwebs fell away from his mind, and the truth of his situation hit him like a hammer. And yet even as he reached the conclusion, his mind shied away from it. He forced himself to ignore the feeling of being on the wrong track, and the compulsion spell shattered.

"Oh hell," he muttered, his eyes widening. "They've found me." He rose to his feet, turned, and ran for the window. At that moment, the front door exploded into the room in a shower of splinters.

Methos hadn't moved quickly enough. A well-dressed man moving at inhuman speeds rushed into the room, seized the oldest immortal by the ankle, and tossed him into the wall. HARD.

Methos coughed up blood. "... I was wondering..." he murmured, "How long it would take you to find me..."

The well-dressed man adjusted his tie before approaching the fallen Immortal. "And if you'd broken through the compulsion even a few seconds earlier, you'd have escaped. You're slipping, Death."

Methos laughed bitterly, and the man picked him up and punched him in the stomach. He staggered.

"You knew this was coming sooner or later, Death. As one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, you are under certain contractual obligations, sudden attacks of conscience notwithstanding. Failure to meet those obligations..." the well-dressed man smiled. "Let's just say we have a place prepared for you. Somewhere you'll have time to think. Clear your head. Until you come around to our way of thinking."

Methos struggled to rise. To speak. To do ANYTHING. The well-dressed man laughed, and then simply seized him by the hair and slammed him headfirst into the wall.

His vision went black.

--------------------

There was a very uncertain looking young man at the door. The moment he opened his mouth, Jack was struck by the sheer unbelievable nerdiness that was Andrew.

"Um, is Cassie Fraiser here?" the young man asked.

"Who's asking?"

"Andrew?"

Jack looked at the young man very closely, and then turned towards Cassie. "You know anyone named Andrew?" he asked.

Cassie seemed to calm down considerably, and peered towards the door, but she said nothing.

Jack shrugged, turning back towards Andrew. "Sorry. Looks like she's not interested in talking to you."

"Wait!" Andrew cried, trying to push his way into the house. Jack stopped his attempt with little effort.

"What do you want, kid?"

"To entertain and to educate," Andrew said, his voice full of false importance.

SG-1 exchanged disbelieving glances. Still, he seemed harmless enough. They allowed him entrance.

"So what do you want with Cassie, kid?" Jack asked as they all sat down in the living room.

"What I have to say is for Miss Fraiser's ears alone."

Cassie glanced at Sam, and then to Andrew. All of her earlier terror, born of nightmare visions half glimpsed, had evaporated. Whoever Andrew was, he didn't frighten her. She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Whatever you're going to say to me, you can say in front of my friends," she said.

Andrew nodded. "As you wish," he said. He then smiled in what he no doubt thought was a mysterious fashion. "Gather around and attend to a most unusual tale... a tale I like to call... The Slayer of the Vampyrs." He rested his chin on his hands, paused for thought, and then cleared his throat.

Once again, SG-1 exchanged disbelieving glances.

"Eons ago, on the dark continent, 3 wise elders decided to fight evil with a taste of its own sinistro. They took a young girl, and they imbued her with the power of a demon. Thusly, the first Slayer of the Vampyrs was born. But alas, the existence of a slayer is often brutal and short-lived. And the 'primitive,' as she was called, boasted no exception. But... the elders had foreseen this inevitability and... and devised a way for her power to live on."

Andrew paused a moment to allow his gripping tale to sink in.

"... Do you actually expect us to..." Jack began. But Andrew went on without listening to what he had to say.

"In every generation, one is chosen. There are many potentials, as we experts call them. Hundreds... maybe thousands per generation. Each of them experiencing vivid dreams... some say nightmares... of the heroics of past slayers. But only one can be chosen."

Cassie actually seemed interested at this point, but apart from Daniel Jackson, who thought all of this was a fascinating study in dementia, she was the only one.

"So you're saying that Cassie was chosen to fight these 'forces of darkness?" Daniel asked.

"Indeed yes, my good man," said Andrew. "Six months ago, Buffy, Vampyr Slayer extraordinaire, had her lesbian witch make with the beaucoup de magie. One light show later... all the potentials become slayers. Thus, Miss Fraiser's little... enhancement."

He looked directly at Cassie. "You've been experiencing the dreams, haven't you? Let the Force guide you on your path. We can train you, and make sure you get a good education. That's what we do. Are you interested?"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, and the others were beyond incredulity at this point.

"OK, I think that's enough," said Jack. "Time for you to go." He seized Andrew by the scruff of his neck and began to drag him towards the door.

And that was when a young woman stepped into the house. Jack barely had time to react before she had grabbed his arm and twisted it painfully around behind his back.

"What the he...OW!" Jack exclaimed.

Andrew dusted himself off, trying to look dignified. "It's, um, all right, Vi. You can let him go."

The young woman released O'Neill's arm and stepped away. Jack rubbed his arm and stared at her suspiciously.

Andrew looked to Cassie. "So, um, Miss Fraiser, are you interested? Will you come with me to Rome, and learn the ways of the Force?"

Cassie was probably the only one who took him seriously. But she didn't respond the way he wanted. "No." she said.

Andrew blinked in surprise. "What?"

"You heard me," said Cassie, very seriously, a far cry from the frightened young woman she had been just before Andrew's arrival. "This is where I belong. I saw it in the dreams."

Andrew wasn't sure what to say to that. He directed a helpless glance towards Vi, who shrugged at him.

"OK," he said at length, and turned to go.

"Wait," Cassie called.

Andrew waited.

"There's something you need to see."

Cassie reached out and placed her hand on the side of Andrew's face.

FLASH

Rome lay in ruins. The Vatican City had been reduced to rubble. The very messy remains of MILLIONS of human beings lay scattered throughout the rubble in great piles, and the stench of carrion befouled the air.

In the center of the destruction, Buffy stood over a headless corpse. She held the Scythe in her hands, and her eyes were completely black. Willow black.

Nearby, Dawn lay dead.

FLASH

Andrew's eyes went wide in shock. "... woah," he said, staring at Cassie, "Slayer mind-meld!"

Cassie looked him straight in the eyes. "Don't let it happen like that. Find another way."

Andrew nodded, his nerdish enthusiasm curbed by this sobering new information. He looked to Vi. "Time to go," he said. She nodded, and together, they departed.

As the door shut behind them, Jack glanced at Cassie, and for a long moment, there was silence.

"Well," he said at length, "You handled that well. Feeling any better?"

Cassie smiled faintly. She had a rough couple of months ahead of her, but with friends like these, she might just be able to make it through.

-----------------------

Duncan knew something was wrong when he reached the door to his apartment. It had been destroyed. Completely. Fragments of wood were spilled everywhere, and there were splinters on everything. If it weren't for the lack of damage to the wall around the door, he'd say it had been opened with explosives.

He drew his sword and stepped into the room.

His heart sank.

There was blood on the floor, and around a large hole in the wall. Ample signs of a struggle. Not enough blood to be a beheading, though. A half-finished beer lay on the table, and Methos was nowhere to be seen.

"Adam?" he called, on the off chance the man was still in hearing distance.

No response.

With a terrible sinking feeling, Duncan picked up the phone and dialed.

Joe would need to know about this.

----------------------

Another time, another place...

Methos sat with his son at the counter in the bright kitchen, every fiber of his being radiating domestic bliss. His wife made her rounds, tidying up the kitchen after their breakfast meal. A textbook lay open before the happy father and son.

"Come on," said Methos, "You know this one."

"Um..." his son thought about it for a moment. "The outer core."

Methos smiled, and he felt his heart expanding within him with pride in his son's learning. "And under that?"

"The inner core."

"Under that?"

His son, Zach, looked confused. "Under that... nothing."

"Just the soft, chewy center."

Zach rolled his eyes. "Ha ha."

Methos laughed.

"Hey, hon?" his wife began, "Oven light just went out. I need a bulb from the cellar."

Methos looked away. "There should be some in the hall closet." The basement door stood out in stark relief against the rest of the house, although this difference was born of fear, and not of looks.

"Just regular ones," his wife replied, "Little ones are downstairs."

Fear flashed in Methos' eyes, and he looked at his son. "Zach's about to tell me about the lithosphere," he said, hoping to placate his wife.

His wife walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I kinda need it now," she insisted.

Methos hesitated, casting a fearful glance towards the basement door.

They can only undo you as much as you think you deserve to be undone, it's said. And in Methos' basement, there were tortures far worse than torn out hearts and mutilated limbs.

END CHAPTER 13

---------------------

Author's notes:   
I know, I know. Bringing in a Stargate crossover for all of one episode may seem strange, but I just could not resist the implications.


	19. Love's Labours

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 14: Love's Labours...

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

-------------------------------

"All right, Andrew," Buffy said, looking supremely annoyed, "I'm listening.

They were in her office at the former Watcher's Academy in Rome. Buffy sat in a comfortable chair behind her desk, with Xander sitting at her side. Andrew sat on the opposite side of the desk. He had just returned from his trip to the States.

"He's, um, sort of like a cross between Ensign Ro with the Maquis and Londo in 'The Fall of Centauri Prime.'"

Buffy's eye twitched slightly. "And for those of us who don't speak geek?"

Andrew looked confused.

Xander put a hand on Buffy's shoulder. "I got it, Buff. He says that it looks to him like Angel is trying to infiltrate his way to the belly of the beast for a noble cause, but that he's stuck his head in the lion's mouth and its jaws are beginning to close around his neck."

Buffy nodded. "OK. Right then. Did you have any trouble finding Dana?"

Andrew shook his head. "Nah. Spike helped."

Both Xander and Buffy raised an eyebrow simultaneously.

"Say what?"

Andrew's eyes lit up, and he got a really wistful expression on his face. "He was like Gandalf the White, resurrected from the pit of the Balrog, more beautiful than ever."

Buffy and Xander exchanged glances.

"Xander, translation?"

Xander thought about that for a moment before shrugging helplessly. "He said, 'Spike's back.'"

"Oh."

Xander nodded. "Yeah."

--------------------------------

Clad in a white dress, Buffy raced across the field of sunlit flowers, her long blonde hair streaming behind her. "Oh, Spike!" she cried, flinging herself into the muscular arms of her bare-chested, tight-black-jean wearing lover.

Romantic music swelled around them. He gathered her into a passionate kiss, and she swooned in his arms. "I'll never let you go," he whispered into her hair.

"How can this be?" she asked, her eyes wide, doe-like, and sparkling with unshed tears, "I saw you die!"

Spike lowered her gently onto a bed of flowers, smiling tenderly. "Death can't stop true love, love."

"Oh Spike! I never could resist you. Darn your sinister attraction."

"Um... Andrew?"

---------------------------------

"Andrew?" Buffy asked a second time, growing (more) annoyed.

Andrew continued to stare wistfully off into space. "How can this be?" he mouthed silently, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "I saw you die!"

Buffy snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hey! Andrew!"

He came out of his daydream with a slight jump. "What?"

"What's the what? You've got a distinct lack of Cassieness."

Andrew frowned. "Oh. Um... she didn't want to come."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Xander blinked. This... actually didn't happen that often. Thus far, only two girls had actually expressed any reluctance to come and receive training from the new Watcher's Council... and none had ever actually outright refused. "Did you happen to catch her reasons?"

Andrew nodded. "She said that the dreams had already done the Comes the Inquisitor thing."

Buffy glanced at Xander, and Andrew looked annoyed.

"He said that the dreams had tested her, and determined that she was the right person in the right place at the right time."

Buffy looked thoughtful for a moment. "All right, then. If the PTB have something special in mind for her, we'll have to let it be for now."

"Maybe give her some backup once we can spare the manpower?" Xander asked, grinning good-naturedly

Buffy laughed and nodded.

Andrew didn't get the joke.

------------------------------

Later, when she was alone in her room, Buffy sank slowly into bed, reeling from the news that Andrew had delivered.

Spike.

"Spike..."

Echoes of the past filled the room as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

"I mean it! I gotta do this."

Buffy took Spike's hand in her own, entwining her fingers with his. Their hands burst into flame, and yet Buffy ignored the fire as she held his gaze. "I love you."

He smiled, a mixture of love and irony in his expression. "No you don't. But thanks for saying it."

The ground heaved beneath them, and chunks of stone slammed down all around them. Flames burned ever brighter.

"Now go!" he said.

She turned away.

He grinned sardonically, and murmured, half to himself, "I want to see how it ends."

Fire.

Destruction.

Buffy shook her head. She didn't know how to feel about Spike being back. For that matter, she didn't really know how she felt about Spike, either. "Do you love him?" Angel had asked her. "He's in my heart," she had replied.

He still was.

And yet...

Did she love him?

She wasn't sure. She knew that she felt close to him, but that wasn't the same question. Not the same question at all.

Did she love Angel?

Always.

Could she be with him?

No.

Buffy rolled over and grimaced. Why did her love life have to be so complicated?

------------------------

Two days later...

Kennedy was smiling as she stepped off of the plane, with a fresh batch of Slayers in tow. The work that she and Willow (and then later she by herself) had done in Brazil had been a complete success. Not only had they found no small number of Slayers, they had also successfully set up their operation of Slayer gathering in the area such that their own direct presence was no longer required.

So here she was, fresh off the airplane at the Roman airport, peering eagerly about for any sign of Willow's presence. She had been looking forward to seeing Willow for several weeks now, and her excitement at the prospect of finally being with her lover was almost palpable.

The redheaded Wicca was nowhere to be seen.

Kennedy's smile faded.

----------------------

Half a world and several dimensions away, Methos sat with his son at the counter in the bright kitchen, every fiber of his being radiating domestic bliss. His wife made her rounds, tidying up the kitchen after their breakfast meal. A textbook lay open before the happy father and son.

"Hey, hon?" his wife began, "Oven light just went out. I need a bulb from the cellar."

He looked at his wife, and a flicker of recognition intruded upon the torment of the hell dimension.

Alexa?

Methos looked away. "There should be some in the hall closet."

"Just regular ones," his wife replied, "Little ones are downstairs."

Fear flashed in Methos' eyes, and he looked at his son. "Zach's about to tell me about the lithosphere," he said, hoping to placate his wife.

His wife walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I kinda need it now," she insisted.

He pushed his son out of his lap, and he turned towards his wife (Alexa, a distant part of his mind insisted), just looking at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I was just thinking," he said.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. "Thinking about what?"

He smiled. "About how beautiful you are."

She laughed. "You're not getting out of getting me another bulb, Adam."

The air thickened around the name like molasses. His name. The name of...

**FLASH**

"Excuse me, if I sat at a table would you be my waitress?"

She looked at Joe. "Is he a good tipper?"

"No," said Joe.

She smiled faintly. "Too bad. Makes up for it in cute, though."

Methos looked thoughtful. "Cute. I can do cute."

**FLASH**

"Hey, hon?" Alexa began, "Oven light just went out. I need a bulb from the cellar."

Confusion lit Methos' eyes. He looked at his son, and for a moment, he was silent. "Zach's about to tell me about the lithosphere," he said at length, sounding uncertain.

Alexa walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I kinda need it now," she insisted.

Methos nodded. "... Right."

----------------------------------

She had found them in an abandoned warehouse, crouched around the freshly killed body of a four-year-old girl. She had been on patrol when she sensed their presence. She made a beeline for their position, the Slayer within guiding her ever onward to face them.

The first of them was almost too easy, turned to dust by her unexpected attack from behind. The second went down almost as fast, barely even having time to react before the stake went into his heart, and he too was reduced to a fine layer of dust.

The last vampire wasn't so easy.

She fought as she always had. Fist for fist, blood for blood. This was her life. This was her nature: red in tooth and claw. They danced the dance of death together, vampire and Slayer, she full of grace and rage in equal measure, he little better than an animal, albeit a cunning one. Blocking, ducking, weaving, punching, kicking, jumping.

The vampire, with short black hair, baring pale fangs that gleamed in the moonlight, set within a mouth that had long ago been stained by the blood of his victims, leaped over her kick and landed behind her.

That final gasp. That look of peace. What's it like?

Where does it lead you?

The slightest of hesitation.

The Slayer didn't turn quickly enough – she took a brutal hit to the back that sent her reeling. Her eyes widened. One misstep was all it took in a battle like this.

The vampire caught her by her long, dark hair and yanked her savagely into his arms. Almost effortlessly he twisted her right arm around behind her until it broke with a sickening snap. She screamed, though more out of rage than pain.

"I've always wanted to taste the blood of a Slayer," he hissed.

And then he drank.

Faith gasped, her eyes going wide. Coldness began to spread through her body as the vampire drained her of blood. Comforting, cold, numbness... everywhere, covering everything... the final breath? The look of peace?

The vampire wiped his mouth, laughed, and walked away.

Faith's cold body hit the floor. Where does it lead?

There was no release.

A moment later, she sat up, felt at the bite with her left hand, and frowned. He had torn open her jugular. The wound was still open, but the flow of blood had stopped.

Faith KNEW that she should be dead.

"What the hell?" she asked the empty warehouse, feeling a vague sense of disappointment.

The warehouse said nothing.

---------------------------

"Hey Will."

Willow looked up in surprise as she stepped into her room. Kennedy sat on the bed, waiting for her.

"Kennedy!" she exclaimed. "When did you get in?"

Kennedy smiled. "A few hours ago. I called, remember?"

Willow's face fell. "Oh. Oh, yeah." Remorse flashed in her eyes, and she ducked her head. "I'm sorry, Kennedy. We've been way busy what with the apocalypse avoidance."

"I brought in a new batch of Slayers."

Willow's expression brightened. "And hey, if you're here, it means that the thing in Brazil doesn't need either of us to baby sit it anymore. Yay us!"

Kennedy took Willow's hand and led her to the bed, leaning in close as she whispered, "Yay us."

Their lips met, and Willow hesitated before kissing her lover back.

At that moment, the door burst open, and Dawn came rushing in. "Willow, you have to come see..." She trailed off. "Oh."

Willow turned towards Dawn. "Hey Dawnie," she said, smiling wryly. "Thanks for knocking."

"Kennedy! When did you get here?"

Kennedy smiled. "A few hours ago. You holding the fort?"

Dawn nodded enthusiastically. "Consider the fort held. Can you spare Willow for a bit?"

Kennedy gave Willow a calculating look. "Maybe. Is it for a good cause?"

"Apocalypse avoidance?"

Kennedy laughed. "If the fate of the world hangs in the balance, I suppose I can give her up."

An awkward silence fell for just a moment before the resident redheaded Wiccan filled the void with speech.

"What's up, Dawnie?" Willow asked.

"We've got permission from the Vatican to look into their archives, and since you're usually making with the research, I thought you could help me look through them."

Willow and Dawn went out, leaving Kennedy where she sat on the edge of Willow's bed. Neither of them noticed the Slayer's look of disappointment, nor the pain that it concealed.

All was not well in the world of Willow.

--------------------------

When Faith staggered into Slayer Central, she was greeted by Rona, who stood guard at the entrance with one of the newbies.

"Damn, Faith," she said, giving the dark Slayer a sympathetic look. "The only time I've ever seen anything near as bad as that was looking in the mirror just after Sunnydale collapsed."

The other Slayer on guard smiled at that comment. "So which was it, Faith?" the new girl asked, "A pack of demons, or the 1989 Denver Broncos?"

Faith didn't answer, and she didn't have the energy to spare for a grin. She managed to take two more steps, and then she collapsed, utterly spent.

Rona and the newly found Slayer exchanged concerned glances, and when Faith didn't rise, Rona left instructions for the newbie to stay and watch over Faith while she went for help before running off to find Giles.

He'd know what to do.

---------------------------

Lightning crackled in the darkness. A flicker of warmth, there and gone. With a roar of triumphant fury, the beast tore Methos' heart from his chest.

His world dissolved in pain.

**FLASH**

"Your accent. You're not from around here."

Methos shook his head. "No, I've traveled a lot."

Alexa's face lit up. "Really? Paris."

Methos shook his head. "No, Paris is too full of Parisians. Even the French don't like Paris."

"Venice?"

"Venice, the smell alone will kill you."

Alexa grew quiet. "You're a little young to be so cynical, aren't you?"

"If you say so."

"I just did."

**FLASH**

"Hey, hon?" Alexa began, "Oven light just went out. I need a bulb from the cellar."

Methos gently pushed Zach out of his lap, rose to his feet, and then swept his wife into a romantic waltz. "Why then," he said, kissing her gently, "We'll just have to do something about that, won't we?"

------------------------------

"He was here when he vanished?" Joe asked, leaning heavily on his cane.

Duncan nodded, gesturing to very obvious signs of struggle. "Doesn't look like he wanted to leave."

Joe sat down at a chair in front of the coffee table and opened up his laptop and plugged in the modem.

"Joe?"

"Hang on a minute, Mac."

The old watcher's hands flew across the keyboard for about thirty seconds before he nodded in a satisfied fashion.

"OK, I think I've got an audio of the time in between when you left and when you returned."

Duncan blinked. "You're recording me?"

"You're not the only one I Watch, Mac."

Duncan's eyes widened slightly. "You're Watching Methos!"

Joe grinned and nodded. "Hey, somebody needs to do it. It's bugs, mostly. A GPS in the button of his favorite pair of pants to track his movements. I keep it out of the official Watcher archives. And of course, the 'official' Methos chronicles are still his jurisdiction." His grin faded. "Not that there's much of an official Watcher archives left after the explosion at the headquarters. Most of what was saved was what we had put onto the computers."

Duncan shook his head, marveling at the sheer sneakiness of his friend. "Does he know about it?"

Joe shrugged. "If he does, he's never said anything about it."

Duncan found himself trying not to laugh.

"Anyways," said Joe, "Let's hear what we can hear."

The recording began to play.

---------------------------

They had been working for several hours now, perusing the Vatican archives in search of the authoritative book on the Eater of Souls. As it turned out, Methos was partially right. There really was quite a bit of confiscated medieval pornographic material. Thankfully (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it), it only represented a very small portion of the archives. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it), the rest of the archives were quite extensive.

Which meant that their research was going nowhere fast.

"Demons, demons, demons," Dawn read from the cover of one of the book. She flipped a few pages. "Slime demons. Ichor demons. Vaguely-angry punkish metal band demons?" She frowned. "Why can't there be fluffy, cute, bunny demons?"

Willow didn't look up from her own book.

"It's always nasty, stinky, and icky. Never cute and cuddly."

Willow said nothing.

Dawn frowned. "What's with the overly talkative today, Willow?"

"What?"

"I'm noticing a distinct lack of Willowness. Your body's here. Where's the rest of you?"

Willow shook her head and sighed. "Sorry, Dawnie. I've got a lot on my mind." She thought for a moment, and then looked back at the younger Summers girl, looking faintly annoyed. "And stop channeling Buffy."

Dawn grinned. "Well, just between us, I think you should talk to her."

Willow raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Kennedy, Willow."

Willow frowned. "Hey! You're not supposed to give relationship advice. You're supposed to be making with the, cute, extra-whiney little sister in danger routine."

Dawn shrugged. "Everyone grows up eventually."

Willow nodded.

Silence fell.

"... So, you find anything yet?"

"Nope. You?"

"Nope."

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

"Yep."

---------------------------

Duncan and Joe sat in silence as the implications of what they had heard sank in.

Death.

"It all comes back to that with him, doesn't it?"

Joe shrugged. "On the plus side, we can assume that he's still alive. Sounds like they, whoever they are, want him for something to do with his old job."

Duncan gave Joe a weary look. "I'm not worried about him dying. Methos has always been a survivor."

"You're worried about him giving in, and agreeing to whatever they want him to do." It wasn't a question.

Duncan nodded.

"And I suppose it's up to us to find him before that happens."

Duncan nodded.

Joe typed in a few commands on the keyboard. "Alright, Mac. Let's just hope the tracker wasn't damaged."

A few seconds later, Joe frowned.

"What?"

"That's odd. I should be able to find him anywhere on Earth with this. Unless it's broken."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "Can you look over the logs? See where he was just before it lost the signal?"

Joe typed in a few more commands, and a moment later, a red dot appeared superimposed on the map of the Earth that graced his monitor.

Directly over Los Angeles.

Duncan and Joe exchanged glances.

"I hear L.A. is nice this time of year," Joe said.

---------------------------------------------

"Oh dear."

Faith lay in bed, her arm in a cast, and a bandage on her neck. She was very pale, and her breathing was shallow, but she was alive.

Giles stared at Faith, looking quite thoroughly shocked.

"What's the verdict, Giles?"

"Not dead," Giles replied, albeit distantly. He took off his glasses and cleaned them.

"Yeah, I got that. But what I'm itchin' to know is WHY I'm not dead."

He replaced his glasses. "Have any of the other girls experienced anything like this?"

Faith nodded. "Yeah. One."

Silence fell for a moment as the implications of that sank in.

"Oh, again, dear."

"I thought Immortals were supposed to heal quickly." Faith looked down at herself. "I'm healing at regular Slayer speed."

"Which could not in any way be interpreted as 'quickly?'"

Faith laughed, and then winced. "Ow. Hurts to laugh."

Giles shook his head. "I wish I had answers for you, Faith, but this is completely unprecedented. How do you feel?"

"Aside from a broken arm and a full body painful tingly 'hand fell asleep' sort of feeling?"

"Yes, aside from that."

"Five by five."

------------------------------

"... Willow..." Dawn began, her voice weak, and her eyes wide in horror. "I think you need to look at this..."

They had been researching for several hours now, and only now had they finally found anything relevant to what they were looking for. And from the sound of it, it wasn't good.

Willow set her book down and walked over to Dawn. "What is it?" she asked.

Dawn pointed wordlessly to the open book in front of her.

"And in the final days, the Children of Osiris shall do battle one with another, each death bringing their father one step closer to resurrection. In the end, there can be only one. In the end, there will be only Osiris. His children's souls are the fuel for the flames of his rebirth. And the world shall burn at his touch.

A great darkness shall arise in the Holy City, and it shall be laid to waste. In the final days, on the Walpurgis nacht, the Eater of Souls shall rise. The one girl in all the world stands to face him, and in her victory shall she be undone. Osiris, the Old One, shall rise, and the world shall burn. God have mercy on us all."

"Hey guys," Buffy said as she walked in through the door, passing a very surly monk on her way in. "How's it going?" When neither Dawn nor Willow responded, she moved to look at the book that they were staring at. "What'cha lookin' at?"

Dawn pointed at the text.

No one said a word as Buffy read the fateful words.

Willow felt that sick, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Buffy turned towards her, and her eyes were full of horror.

"You linked me... to THAT?" Buffy asked in a near whisper.

Willow stood there before the twin horrified gazes of the Summers sisters for a long moment... and then turned and fled, leaving the Slayer and the Key to sit in silence.

-------------------------------

Kennedy found her in their room, her makeup streaked with tear-lines. Willow looked up as her lover came in, but said nothing.

Kennedy sat down at her side and put an arm around her shoulder. Willow put her head on Kennedy's shoulder.

"I heard."

Willow nodded. "... I thought you might have."

They sat there in silence for a while.

At length, Kennedy spoke. "Willow, talk to me, please?"

Willow tried to meet Kennedy's gaze, but she couldn't hold it. "There's nothing I can say."

"Please, baby."

The Wiccan struggled to suppress a sob. "It just... never stops. What I did... I can't ever pay enough. There's always some new revelation – some new horror, and I'm to blame!"

Kennedy remained silent, simply holding Willow, letting her speak.

"If I'd just been smarter... I should have seen it coming." She fought back tears. "If I'd been faster... if I'd been the one standing in front of the window..." Willow broke down and began to weep. "Oh goddess..."

Kennedy let her cry for a few minutes, just holding her. When her girlfriend's tears finally subsided, the Slayer spoke. "This thing with Buffy, and Dawn, the Eater of Souls, and the Immortals? I won't pretend to understand it, but we'll deal. We always do, don't we?"

Willow nodded faintly.

There was a brief silence, and then Kennedy spoke again. "I'm not Tara, you know," she said gently. "I can never be Tara, and I'm not trying to replace her."

Willow met Kennedy's gaze, and this time, she held it. Both sets of eyes filled with pain, each the mirror of the other. "I know."

Kennedy smiled sadly. "I know that you'll love Tara for the rest of your life. But Tara's gone, Will. I wish I could have known her – she sounds like she was wonderful. I'm sorry, and I know it hurts, but she's gone."

Willow began to weep once more, and the weight of her visible grief turned Kennedy's heart in knots.

"I'm sorry, and I know it hurts, but she's gone. I love you, Willow. But I can't compete with the dead. Baby, you have to let her go."

Willow looked at Kennedy, thoroughly miserable. "I can't..." she said, and the sheer longing that filled the redhead's voice nearly broke the Slayer's heart.

A long silence fell once more, until it was once again broken by Kennedy's voice.

"You're not a monster, Willow."

Willow hesitated before replying, but emotion still cracked her voice. "What am I, then?"

Kennedy wrapped both of her arms around Willow's shoulders. "You're the woman I love."

Willow smiled a sad smile.

--------------------------

Buffy sat on her bed, totally numb. The implications of what she had read were well and truly sunk in. Tears leaked from her eyes as the full weight of her situation hit her with the force of a hammer.

The best she could hope for was to live forever on this earth.

Anya's words from so long ago (it seemed), echoed in the silent room.

"So Buffy, do you want to be the Slayer forever? You know how you were in Heaven before Willow and the rest of us ripped you out? How do you feel about never seeing Heaven again, and spending the rest of eternity stuck here on earth with nothing but endless battle to look forward to? Well, that and the pain of seeing everyone you've ever loved grow old and die. I guess you could make new friends after your current friends die, but then they'd grow old and die too. Well, unless someone takes your head, that is. In which case they take your soul and your quickening into them, absorbing all that you are and were, forever."

She would never see Heaven again.

If there are joys in Hell, surely they are of the kind that, if we understood them, would send us flying to our prayers in a fit of terror. If there are pains in Heaven, surely they are of the kind that, if we understood them, we would desire them.

Buffy was in Hell.

----------------------------

Methos smiled at he led Alexa upstairs to their room.

"What about Zach?" she asked, stifling a giggle.

"Long since asleep," he replied and then traced the line of her neck with his kisses.

"You should be asleep, too. You've got a long day, tomorrow."

Methos shook his head. "Nonsense. We've got all the time in the world. Just you, and I."

The power of the Quickening flashed in the darkness like lightning.

As he led her to their bed, the demon in his lover's form shook her head wonderingly. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. What was this feeling that she felt? Was this love?

"Is this Heaven?" she asked.

Neither one of them noticed the amulet that lay discarded at their bedside.

END CHAPTER 14

-----------------------------

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	20. Tumbling Down

Fred shuddered. Her fever had abated, but she was still very, very weak, her long, brown hair clinging to her sweat-streaked face. "Why did we go there?" she asked desperately. "Why did we think we could beat it? It's evil, Wesley. It's bigger than anything."

Wesley leaned in close. "I don't believe that."

She backed up towards the headboard of her bed, panicked. "Uggh...!" She pointed at Wes, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I'm with him!" She began to cry. "He won't leave me now. We're so close."

Wesley met her panicked gaze. "I will never leave you."

Fred panted for breath, and then seemed to recover. "That was bad, but it's better now. You won't leave me?"

He kneeled in front of her. "I won't."

"My boys. I walk with heroes. Think about that."

Wesley visibly struggled to hold himself together, but he couldn't quite stop his tears. "You are one."

"Superhero. And this is my power: to not let them take me. Not me."

Wesley sat down beside her and wrapped her up in his embrace. "That's right."

Fred laced her fingers through his. "That's right. He's with me."

A horrible not-silence hung between them for a moment as Fred struggled for breath.

"Will you kiss me?" she asked.

Wesley kissed her, tender and passionate in equal measure. After a moment, Fred pulled away.

"Would you have loved me?"

Wesley nodded. "I've loved you since I've known you. No, that's not—I think maybe even before."

Fred leaned her forehead against his. "I'm so sorry."

"No," he said tenderly, "no, no."

Fred choked on her coughs; tears flowing freely down her face. She recovered after a moment, but was not as strong afterwards. "I need you to talk to my parents. They have to know I wasn't scared, that it was quick. That I wasn't scared." She began to convulse. "Oh, God..."

Wesley grabbed her by the arms, looking straight into her eyes. "You have to fight. You don't have to talk, just concentrate on fighting. Just hold on."

Fred looked into his eyes, and her body quivered uncontrollably. "I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not scared," she insisted, her frightened tone belying her words. After a few moments, her grip softened, and she sank into his arms.

Weakly, she spoke. "Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?"

Her body went still in Wesley's arms.

Wesley looked down at her limp body, sorrow twisting in his heart. "Please..." he said, his voice filled with desperation. He hugged her tightly to himself, and then said, more softly, but filled with no less desperate longing than before, "... please..."

A change began to flow over Fred's body. Her eyes hardened, and blue streaks began to spread across her body. She kicked her body away from Wesley, sending him across the room, and pushing her to the floor.

Wesley watched in horror as Fred's body convulsed. Watched in horror as the woman he loved more than life itself, died.

The transformation complete, Illyria rose to her feet. Lizard-like, she examined her hand, flexing and unflexing her fingers.

"This will do."

---------------------------------------

**_One is the loneliest number  
That you'll ever do_**

Faith stood alone in the shower, watching the blood from her injuries washing off and swirling down the drain, red on the white tile. Funny how much mortal injuries hurt, even if they didn't actually kill you. So much like another shower, washing away other injuries. "It's the Other Slayer." "It feels like it's mine...! I guess that must mean it's yours."

She'd always been in Buffy's shadow, but this... this... hell no. HELL no.

**_Two can be as bad as one  
It's the loneliest number since the number one_**

Willow and Kennedy lay in each other's arms. Kennedy slept, but Willow stared blankly at the wall, sadness etched into her eyes. The sheets rustled as she climbed out of bed and went to prepare herself for the new day. Alone now in the bed, Kennedy shivered in her sleep.

**_No is the saddest experience  
You'll ever know_**

Methos sat on the edge of his bed, Alexa asleep at his side. The amulet that sealed his memories away lay discarded at the foot of the bed. He knew that all of this was a lie. He knew that Alexa was dead, and that the woman sleeping beside him was not she.

But she looked like her.  
Smelled like her.  
Tasted like her.  
Acted like her.

He knew it was a lie, even as he knew that this was not the way his prison was supposed to be - he had made this lie manifest. But oh, to believe the lie. To let himself believe that it really was her beside him. To let himself believe that the thing he wanted most in all the world – a family – was really his. To let himself be happy...

As he sat there in the darkness, looking down at the sleeping form of his wife, he couldn't hide the haunted look in his eyes.

**_Yes, it's the saddest experience  
You'll ever know_**

Wesley sank to his knees. The woman he loved was dead, and his heart had died with her.

He knew it was hopeless. He knew that she was gone. And yet he couldn't quite quash the hope that rose up desperately within him. "Fred?" he asked.

Illyria walked past Wesley, ignoring him as she moved to stand in front of the mirror. She looked upon her new body with great interest.

Wesley's last feeble hope crumbled to dust. In a voice utterly broken, he asked again, "Illyria?"

The Thing that had killed her, the Thing that had stolen her body, cocked HER head in a lizard-like parody of human movement and looked at him. "My name..." she said.

**_'Cause one is the loneliest number  
That you'll ever do_**

A pair of hands reached around her and clasped around her waist, and she covered them with hers. She looked back at Angel, who leaned his head over her shoulder. She brushed her hand against his cheek.

"How did you find me here?"

Angel smiled. "If I were blind, I would see you."

Buffy took his hand in hers and closed her eyes, content in his embrace. "Stay with me," she whispered.

"Forever. That's the whole point."

Buffy frowned. "Forever..."

Angel nodded.

"But I'll grow old. I'll die."

Angel half smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Angel turned her gently to face him.

"The gypsy curse..."

FLASH

In one brutal movement, Angelus twists Jenny Calendar's head and snapped her neck. Her body collapsed to the floor.

FLASH

Angel nodded. "Can't forget about that, can we?"

"One moment of..." Buffy began.

Angel silenced her with a kiss. "Perfect," he murmured. He kissed her again, and more passionately, "Happiness."

Buffy woke suddenly, looking around in confusion. "Angel?" she asked.

**_One is the loneliest number,  
So much worse than two_**

Angel awoke in his bed at Wolfram and Hart, looking confused. He looked around, and then called out to the darkness of the room, "Buffy?"

The darkness didn't answer.

------------------------------

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 15: Tumbling Down

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money. I also don't own 'One Is The Loneliest Number' – that would be by Three Dog Night.

-------------------------------

Dawn sat at the very table that the new Watcher's Council had held its meeting not too long ago, now repaired thanks to the efforts of a certain carpenter. The table was covered with books, and the room was cold. She'd brought a blanket out and wrapped it around herself like a cloak to stave off the chill of the room. She wore pajamas, and fuzzy bunny slippers graced her feet.

She had borrowed the book on Eater of Souls from the Vatican (the monk in charge of the archives had been quite grouchy about it), and was now attempting to cross-reference it – to discover the meaning of a prominent symbol in the book: a circle of black thorns. So far, she wasn't having much luck.

"Are you still up?" Giles asked absently as he walked into the room, holding a steaming cup of tea.

Zombie-like, Dawn stared at the pages in front of her. "Can't talk. Have to find out what this circle of black thorns is."

Giles cocked his head to the side. "A circle of black thorns?"

Dawn pointed to the symbol, and Giles came over to look at it.

"Do you know what it means?" Dawn asked.

For a long moment, he stared at the symbol. There was a feeling of power, there, and of great darkness. It tugged at the edges of his memory, but when he pursued the feeling, he found nothing. Giles shook his head. "No."

Dawn nodded. "Some of the girls have seen it in their dreams. Whatever it is, it's evil."

Giles sipped his tea and sat down beside her. "Of course." He glanced at the other books on the table. "What else have you found?"

"Plenty more annoyingly vague prophecy. Some Apocalyptic Signs that'll be associated with the awakening of Eater of Souls. That sort of thing."

Giles nodded.

They worked together for the next hour, checking and rechecking the symbol against various books of forgotten lore. And then, Dawn came across the symbol in another book. "Ooooh! I found it! Giles, look! It's called the Circle of the Black Thorn!"

Giles nodded, feeling very proud of his young Watcher-In-Training. "Is it?" he asked, "I don't think I ever would have guessed that a circle of black thorns would have been called such a thing."

Dawn laughed. And then her laughter faded as she stared at the page. Beneath the illustration of the circle of the Black Thorn was an illustration of the covers of three books that the writer drew his information from.

Giles looked down at the illustrations. "Wolf," he said, looking at the first. "Ram." That was the second. "Hart." The third.

Dawn and Giles exchanged glances.

------------------------------

"You're about to tell me that you're leaving." It wasn't a question. Joe had caught up to Buffy just as she was about to sit down for lunch. They were in the hallway just outside of the dining commons, and most of the others were already inside, eating.

Joe nodded. "Yeah. You remember Adam, right?"

"I remember."

"He was kidnapped. Taken to LA. MacLeod and I are going to go get him back before whoever took him can convince him to take up his old job again."

"His old job?"

"You know the four horsemen of the Apocalypse?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "... THE four horsemen?"

Joe nodded.

"What do you want me to do?"

Joe shook his head. "Nothing. Mac and I will handle it."

"And the renegade watchers?" Buffy asked.

"Turns out they were drawing their funds from a few secret accounts linked to the old Watcher's Council. I've stopped their access to those accounts. Without funding, if they continue their operations as they have been, they'll be unable to continue their operations as they have been."

"You realize that won't stop them, right?"

Joe nodded.

Buffy thought about it for a moment. "... Go."

Joe didn't need to be told twice. He turned, and hobbled away, calling over his shoulder, "You take care of yourself, Summers."

Even as Joe departed, a very flustered Dawn came rushing up to her sister.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Am I gonna get to eat SOMETIME this century?" She stepped into the dining commons.

Dawn gave her sister a dirty look as she followed her through the door. "We need to talk about Eater of Souls, Buffy."

The door closed behind them, cutting off the sound of their conversation. And Joe hobbled away.

------------------------

"So spill," said Buffy as she sat down at the table where Xander, Andrew, and several others were already busily eating. Willow and Kennedy were conspicuously absent, their places empty.

"OK, the first thing is that Eater of Souls is, or was, a member of something called the Circle of the Black Thorn."

"And that is, exactly?"

Dawn looked uncomfortable.

"You don't know, do you."

"No."

"Anything else?"

Dawn nodded. "Yeah. He works for Wolfram and Hart."

Buffy nodded. "I remember."

Dawn raised an eyebrow.

"Back in Sunnydale, when we were first researching this, Will..." Buffy trailed off, her expression hardening.

Dawn sighed, her enthusiasm somewhat deflated by Buffy's lukewarm response (and especially by the chill that came over Buffy's demeanor at the mention of the redheaded Wicca). "Right. But the REALLY important thing is that the big Apocalyptic signs are due to begin very, very soon."

Buffy gave Dawn a concerned look. "How soon?"

And that was when the earth began to shake, at first faintly, and then with growing violence.

Dawn grimaced. "About now."

------------------------------

Outside, on the steps leading down to the entrance to the school, the shaking earth threw Joe Dawson off balance. He pitched over, flailing his arms in an effort to keep his balance. His false legs were not kind to him. Without the support of his cane, he fell.

Duncan stepped out of the shadow of one of the pillars, where he had been waiting for his friend, and caught him by the arm.

Joe gave the Highlander a grateful look. "I'm getting too old for this."

Duncan smiled faintly. "You and me both."

-----------------------------------

"What kind of signs are we talking about here, Dawn?" Buffy asked."

The scoobies were all gathered 'round the meeting table where Dawn had been doing her research earlier. This time, Willow and Kennedy WERE present, and Buffy was doing her best not to look at her friend.

Dawn looked to Giles, who gestured for her to go ahead.

"Mostly standard stuff."

-----------------------------

Duncan and Joe wended their way through the endless Roman traffic, heedless of the vast flocks of birds wheeling overhead. Birds have more sense than humans, it seems. Even as the humans stood and stared, the birds were fleeing the city. Further up, clouds as black as pitch were gathering, and where their shadow lay, day became blackest night.

And the birds weren't the only ones.

The sewer entrances were BOILING with rats, the vermin swarming up from below the city streets, desperate to escape from That Which Dwells Beneath, and there was not a cat or a dog to be seen anywhere.

People watched the curious behavior of the animals, remarking perhaps that animal control should be called, or perhaps simply marveling at it, and then going on with their lives.

Joe glanced at Duncan. "You ever get the feeling that you're standing on the edge of the Apocalypse?"

Duncan spared Joe a quick glance, taking his attention off the road for a split second. He smiled ruefully. "Nah."

----------------

"Animals fleeing the city. Blood raining from the sky. Possibly a plague of the walking dead."

Giles opened his mouth to speak, but Dawn beat him to it. "Oh, and also various miscellaneous supernatural manifestations. You know. Hauntings. Bleeding walls. The release of a new Grateful Dead album. Unusually feisty vampires and demons. That kind of thing."

Giles looked both proud and annoyed simultaneously.

--------------------------

"And we now go live to our correspondent in Rome."

A reporter for CNN stood before the camera, with Roman streets clearly visible in the background. Much of the city was visibly damaged in the wake of the earthquake, and people were no longer ignoring the goings on – now, they were a part of it, rioting in the streets, looting. A man ran through the background wielding a sign that read, 'Repent, for the End is Nigh!' Further up the street, a thick fog was rolling slowly towards the reporter's position.

"It's chaos here in the Holy City in the wake of the earthquake, Bob. We're getting widespread reports of looting and vandalism..."

The reporter continued speaking even as the fog rolled over him. He could still be seen, albeit dimly.

"... as well as freak weather patterns, including fog and unexpected thunderstorms..."

From off camera, there came a wet sort of shuffling sounds, and distant moaning.

------------------------

"How do we stop it?" Xander asked, a determined look on his face.

Giles fielded this one. "We can't," he said. "Not until we've pinpointed the source. Until then..."

Buffy nodded, now looking determined as well. "Right. Damage control."

------------------------

The hanger door slid open slowly, left to right, and Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson stepped inside. Both of them were considerably worse for wear, Joe bleeding from several minor injuries, and Duncan with tears in his clothing around injuries that his Immortal healing had already dealt with. Joe blanched at the sight that greeted him in the center of the hanger. The Watcher's Council's private jet was there, yes, but that wasn't what made Joe blanch.

Airport security.

Dead.

All of them.

They looked like they'd been... eaten. And some of them were not so much bodies as parts of bodies. A hand here, a foot there, a long coil of entrails across the way.

Joe grimaced. "What do ya think killed them?"

At the sound of his voice, wet, shuffling noises filled the hanger, accompanied by scores of dull moans.

And then the zombies began to emerge from the corners of the massive hanger.

Hundreds of them.

Duncan and Joe exchanged looks.

"Ah hell."

-----------------

Several minutes later...

The report of Joe's revolver rang out violently in the enclosed space of the hanger, and yet another walking corpse dropped to the ground, its functions terminated by a bullet to the brain. He stood at the top of a small boarding ramp next to the jet.

"GO! GO!" he yelled to Duncan, who was working furiously to get the plane ready for takeoff. The undead were pressing in close, and Joe was running out of bullets. Working as quickly as he could, he unlatched the ramp, hobbled into the plane, and pushed it away as hard as he could.

Seconds too late. Joe yelled in pain as a zombie bit a chunk out of his arm. The ramp carried the undead thing away from him, however, and he made short work of it with his pistol before shutting the hatch to the plane just as it began to roll away towards the hanger exit.

Hissing in pain, Joe put as much pressure on the injury as he could, and went to find a first aid kit before joining Duncan in the cockpit.

The jet lumbered through the crowd of zombies, crushing many, and shuddering violently as it squashed their undead bodies into the pavement. And then down the runway... and then the jet was airborne.

Joe breathed a sigh of relief as he wrapped his injury. His relief was short-lived, however, as a disturbing thought suddenly occurred to him. "God I hope this bite isn't going to turn me into a zombie."

"I don't think it works that way."

"How do you know?"

Duncan smiled faintly. "Because the alternative is unthinkable."

Joe grinned at that, the memory of Methos coming sharply to mind in light of Duncan's quotation. "So, if they're not night of the Living Dead style zombies, what do you think, Evil Dead?"

Duncan laughed out loud. "Are we actually having a conversation about zombies?"

Joe nodded. "... Ya know, this sort of thing was a lot funnier before I knew it was all real. But anyways, since I'm not gonna be turning into a zombie any time soon, are you doing all right?"

"Fine. Why?"

"Well, Eater of Souls is waking up, and we're leaving."

Duncan shook his head. "The Slayers do their part, and we do ours."

The jet soared away.

Beneath them, chaos reigned in Rome as the underworld came boiling to the surface. Vampires, demons, hordes of zombies, all poured into the streets as the black clouds spread and blocked out the sun.

And then the rain of blood began.

The Scoobies worked damage control as best they could, but they had little help. The Roman police force fell almost immediately before the monsters, and the Italian military only responded by putting the entire city under quarantine. Of the normal, human agencies, only the Vatican provided any effective resistance against the underworld. Where the weapons of man failed, the weapons of faith proved true. While all of Rome began to crumble around it, the Vatican City stood firm. For a while.

----------------------------

The next day...

The elevator door slid open, and out stepped Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson, into the upstairs lobby of Wolfram and Hart. Joe looked around for a moment, and then, spotting a blonde secretary sitting at a desk, just in front of a large set of double office doors.

Joe hobbled on over.

'Harmony Kendall,' the name plate on the desk read.

"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling prettily.

She had very unicorn figurines on her desk.

Joe nodded. "Yeah. We're here to see a 'Mr. Angel,' and the man at the reception desk downstairs said that he could be found on this floor."

Harmony's smile shifted several hues down the spectrum, coming to rest on 'apologetic.' "I'm sorry, but Angel is unavailable at the moment."

At that moment, the double doors to Angel's office exploded outwards, sending wooden splinters flying everywhere as Angel came tumbling out. The sword that the ensouled vampire had been clutching clattered to the floor. A large demon, all slime and chitonous armor plates, stepped through the remains of the door a few seconds later, looking majorly pissed off.

Angel grabbed his sword and rose to his feet. "Ok, NOW I'm mad!" he said. The beast roared threateningly, but for all its impressive posturing, a quick sword thrust upwards through the throat and into the beast's brain brought it to a swift end.

Joe and Duncan looked on in shock.

"Harmony," Angel began, "Can you get that cleaned up?"

Harmony smiled sunnily, acting for all the world as if this were a normal occurrence. "Sure thing, boss!" she chirped.

As Angel went back into his office, Harmony turned towards Joe and Duncan. "Wouldn't you know it? His schedule was just freed up. I think Angel can see you now."

Joe looked nonplused.

-------------------------

Back in Rome, Xander, Giles, and Willow were working over a series of city maps.

"So Wills, did the locater spell work?"

Willow shook her head, holding up the map she was working on. "It went all kablooie."

Xander raised an eyebrow. "All kablooie?"

Willow indicated the map. "Well, it located Eater of Souls, but his aura is big enough that it kinda envelops the whole city."

Giles raised his eyebrows. "Oh dear."

"What?" Willow asked.

Giles pointed down to the main map that they'd been working from. "Well, you can see here that I've marked the locations of most of the major supernatural disturbances on the map..."

"Yegads!" Xander exclaimed.

The shape formed by the markings was the Circle of the Black Thorn. Within it, the Soul Eater rune, centered on the Vatican City.

"What?" Willow asked. "What does it mean?"

"Willow, we need as powerful a protection spell as you can possibly cast."

"Centered on the Academy?"

Giles shook his head. "No. Centered on us. All of us. It's my hope that we'll be able to defeat Alisoun before she awakens Eater of Souls, but if we don't... that spell may very well be the difference between life and a fate worse than death."

Willow made a face.

"No pressure, Wills," Xander quipped.

------------------------

It was a nice office, all things considered. The desk was somewhat cluttered, though. A black mug with white lettering on it sat on the desk, full of some sort of steaming liquid. On the mug was written, '#1 Boss.' Sitting behind the desk, filling out paperwork, was Captain Forehead himself – Angel.

He sat there at his desk, tall, dark, and brooding, and for a long moment, he didn't look up. At length, he looked up and met their gazes, one after the other.

"Who are you, and why are you in my office?" he asked.

Duncan spoke. "I am Duncan MacLeod." He gestured to Joe. "This is Joe Dawson. A friend of ours was kidnapped from my apartment in Rome, and we've got reason to believe that he was brought here."

Angel frowned. "We don't do kidnappings anymore."

Duncan raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say 'here to Wolfram and Hart.'"

"Oh. Right."

"So, do you think you can help us?"

Angel shook his head. "Take it to the police, because I really don't have time for this. I've got a business to run."

Duncan furrowed his brows angrily. "The man who took him isn't the kind of person the police can help us with." He managed to school his features into an expression more befitting one asking for a favor.   
"We don't have anywhere else to go."

"Why come to me?"

Joe produced a small card from his pocket and placed it on Angel's desk. On the card was written, 'Angel Investigations. We help the helpless.'

Angel looked at the card for a long moment. And then he let out a long, low breath (despite the fact that he didn't need to breathe).

"... I'll do what I can."

------------------------------

Buffy moved fearlessly through the night, the very image of a clueless young blonde. Her movements were carefully controlled to project the image of 'helpless' and 'victim,' all for one purpose: bait.

And it worked.

Vampires would come, looking for an easy mark, and she'd dust them before they even realized that there was something wrong. This tactic worked particularly well in the part of town she was in now – near the Immortal's bar – where the demons lived who wanted nothing to do with the chaos that was sweeping the city. But even if the demons in this part of town were staying out of it, the vampires were not.

So far, she'd already reduced ten bloodsucking fiends to handfuls of dust.

It was the last one that gave her pause - an otherwise attractive young woman with an unfortunate 80's hairstyle, wearing a black blouse and snakeskin miniskirt combination. She stepped out of a dark alleyway and moved directly for the Slayer, her face fully vamped out and ready to bite.

"Slayer, I bring a message from Lady Alisoun," she said. She sounded like an annoyingly chipper soprano, and when she spoke, it was more like a high-pitched chirp than actual words.

Buffy cocked her head. "What?"

The vampire grinned. "You should keep a closer guard on what's yours, Slayer."

Buffy frowned.

"The Lady Alisoun bids me thank you for being so charitable in leaving your Key unguarded."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Dawn...!" She quickly summoned the scythe, and in a blur of motion, cut the vampire in half. Instant hoover-bait. She turned and ran for home.

She'd gotten about two blocks when the sound of automatic gunfire ripped through the night, and Buffy's world vanished in a haze of blood and pain.

--------------------------

A few blocks away, Faith staggered. "What the hell...?" she muttered. She had just cleaned out a nest of demons, and no sooner had she returned to the street, when she'd felt this... this intense sense of Buffy's presence, and a peculiar sort of tug, drawing her towards it. Immediately, she turned and ran towards where she sensed the imperiled Slayer.

Making full use of the increased running speed granted to her as a Slayer, Faith soon rounded the street corner several blocks away from her starting point, and beheld a group of eleven gunmen with automatic rifles all pointing their weapons at a very dead Buffy. But that wasn't what concerned her. What concerned her was the swordsman who was even then raising the sword, about to bring it down on her exposed neck.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" she yelled as she charged the swordsman.

The eleven gunmen accompanying the swordsman turned smoothly and opened fire.

Pain thundered through her body, and she jerked wildly as the bullets tore through her flesh, yet still she came on, ignoring the pain, forcing her body to continue moving.

The sword came down.

Faith caught it by the blade, and it came within a hair's-breadth of cutting her hands in half at the palm. Ignoring the pain, she twisted savagely, wrenching the blade out of the hands of its wielder – Marcus Travers. It clattered to the pavement. And then her will failed, and she collapsed, overwhelmed by the sheer physical trauma that her body had just taken.

Marcus looked upon Faith with respect. "Unbelievable," he whispered. He shook his head, took up the sword once more, and turned towards Buffy.

Buffy was gone.

Marcus' eyes widened, but by that point it was too late to do anything. Buffy had already made her move. Within seconds, Marcus and all of the gunmen were down, and all but Marcus were unconscious. At range, and with their weapons, they could take on a Slayer. Up close, they were just so many ducks all in a row.

The renegade watchers dealt with, Buffy hurried to her fallen Sister-Slayer's side. "Faith..." she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Faith grinned, and it looked quite horrible with her mouth full of blood. "You look like shit, B," she said.

Buffy laughed bitterly. "You don't look too hot yourself," she said, struggling with her tears.

"Ah hell, B, don't waste any tears over me," Faith struggled to sit up, and did so after a few moments. "I'll be fine. Help me up already."

Buffy stared at the dark slayer as if she'd sprouted a third eye. "How...?"

"I can't die, B."

After a few moments Buffy recovered from her shock over that statement sufficiently to help Faith to her feet, and then ask, "You're an Immortal? But I thought..."

Marcus spoke then. "She's not the Immortal, Miss Summers. That would be you."

Buffy turned to face the renegade Watcher. "What?"

"She was an active Slayer when you were made Immortal, Miss Summers," Marcus said, sounding utterly defeated. "You are linked, now. She will never know peace until you are dead."

Faith shrugged, and then winced because it hurt to shrug, and then winced again because it hurt to wince. "Never was much one for peace."

Buffy's eyes widened in sudden remembrance. "We have to get back."

Faith nodded. "What about them?"

Buffy gave the captive Watchers a quick glance, then looked to Faith. "Go. I'll deal with them."

Faith nodded, and then turned and ran for Slayer Central, now feeling a little bit better, as the blood loss had once again reduced her to a state of unfeeling physical numbness, and grateful that the bullets had not severed her spine, shattered her legs, or otherwise caused an injury that would have prevented her from walking.

Buffy gave Marcus a distasteful look. "Now what am I to do with you?" she asked.

Marcus shook his head. "Just kill me and be done with it."

Buffy looked incredulous. "Apparently, you're not familiar with what a Slayer is."

Marcus laughed scornfully. "I haven't forgotten what a Slayer is. But it seems you still haven't learned what an Immortal is." His expression softened slightly. "Maybe it's better that you don't."

"Lemme guess. Fragment of some really old god named Osiris? Part of some really lame resurrection scheme, our souls being the kindling? Yeah, I got the 411."

Marcus looked confused. "You know? But... never mind. If you know, then you know why you have to die."

"No, I know why I have to live."

"Miss Summers, Osiris was no god. Osiris was an Old One. No human should have that kind of power – to have an Old One walking the earth in this day and age, even within the body of a human would be extraordinarily bad, and we cannot risk the chance that the wielder of that power might one day turn upon humanity."

Buffy shook her head. "Actually, it's worse than that," she said cheerfully. "In the end, there can be only one. And in the end, there will be only Osiris." She snorted. "Some prize."

Marcus' eyes widened. "Then it's imperative that..."

Buffy interrupted. "Shut up, Mr. Travers. Shut up and listen."

Marcus fell silent, glaring up at Buffy.

"All that power you're talking about? Having my body play host to some Old One? I want nothing to do with it."

Marcus was silent for a long moment. "... What do you want, Miss Summers?"

"I want to live in peace with my sister and my friends. I want a normal life, with malls, shopping, shoes, and 2.5 children. But most of all, I want to save this world. In a little while, Eater of Souls is going to wake up. If my friends and I aren't there to stop it, he's going to destroy the world. Now, are you gonna help me, or am I going to have to make a more permanent solution to this problem?"

Marcus thought about that for a very long moment.

"... What can we do?"

Buffy smiled.

-----------------------------------

Buffy returned to Slayer Central with a sense of hope. The former renegade Watchers looked at her distrustfully, but they would abide by the decision of their leader. If this could work, maybe, just maybe... and then she saw the school, and her hope faded.

The gates had been blasted from their hinges, and Xander and Andrew were carrying a sheet down the steps towards it.

Towards the body.

A Slayer had died.

She lay there in a pool of blood, her body smashed, her beauty gone. Distantly, it occurred to Buffy that she didn't know the girl's name. And yet, in the dead girl's eyes... that look of peace...

Andrew and Xander covered the body with their sheet, and the blood quickly soaked through it.

Xander gave Buffy a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Buff. They got Emily, and they took Dawn. It was over before we really knew what hit us... and Willow's been hurt." He paused. "And Faith staggered in half dead a few minutes ago, but she says she'll be all right."

Buffy felt pain welling up within her. The same pain she had felt every time someone under her command had died. This was the first dead Slayer since the day they activated them all, and for a moment, she felt a surge of fear. Would there be another to replace ... Emily. The name brought her back to earth, and her heart sank. "Gather everyone who can fight, Xander. They killed a Slayer today. We're going to put a stop to this, once and for all."

Marcus' eyes widened. "... Slayer?" he asked.

Buffy nodded wearily. "Most of the girls here are Slayers, Mr. Travers. Dawn and Willow are the only ones who aren't."

Marcus' face was the picture of total bafflement. "So the reason that the potentials have vanished is..."

"That they're ALL Slayers now."

Shocked murmuring began among the Watchers.

"Buffy, we don't know where they are. How are we going to find where they took Dawn?"

At that moment, over the Vatican City, a pillar of ghostly light shot up into the sky.

Buffy smiled faintly. "Follow the Yellow-Brick-Road."

-------------------------------

They made their way determinedly through the Roman streets – Buffy, Kennedy, Vi, Rona, Xander, Andrew, and some twelve additional Slayers, all armed to the teeth – heading for the Vatican City. Most of the humans had fled for the dubious safety of the in doors, and those who hadn't were now dead. The streets now belonged to the monsters.

And the Slayers.

A trail of dead demons and zombies lay in their wake, punctuated by patches of dust that marked the final resting place of the vampires.

Before them lay the entrance to the Vatican City. The ground within was littered with corpses, and a pillar of pale energy pierced the sky, flowing upwards from a ruined cathedral.

And there, waiting for them at the entrance to the Vatican City, were HUNDREDS of demons and vampires.

Buffy smiled grimly. "Here we go."

END CHAPTER 15

----------------------------

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	21. The Dying of the Light

They made their way determinedly through the Roman streets – Buffy, Kennedy, Vi, Rona, Xander, Andrew, and some twelve additional Slayers, all armed to the teeth – heading for the Vatican City. Most of the humans had fled for the dubious safety of the in doors, and those who hadn't were now dead. The streets now belonged to the monsters.

And the Slayers.

A trail of dead demons and zombies lay in their wake, punctuated by patches of dust that marked the final resting place of the vampires.

Before them lay the entrance to the Vatican City. The ground within was littered with corpses, and a pillar of pale energy pierced the sky, flowing upwards from a ruined cathedral.

And there, waiting for them at the entrance to the Vatican City, were HUNDREDS of demons and vampires.

Buffy smiled grimly. "Here we go."

----------------------------

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 16: The Dying of the Light

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

-----------------------------

Consciousness returned to Dawn slowly. It was dark, and she was cold. There, at the edge of her awareness, a cancerous muttering, the dim mutterings of an alien intelligence finally stirring from its long slumber. Shivering upon the cold, stone floor, Dawn opened her eyes. Pale, ghostly light swam across her vision, mixed with strange fixtures, beams, and pillars. For a moment, she stared at the ceiling, not understanding what she was seeing. When understanding came, it was not a comfort. She was within a binding circle, although the symbol on the floor, painted in blood, looked like no pentagram she had ever seen. 'Elder Sign,' her mind supplied distantly, though that didn't make any sense. The pale light was the wall of her makeshift cell – the wall that shot off through a hole in the roof into the sky - and the fixtures, beams, and pillars were the features of the room – a grand hall of worship in the Vatican City, once a holy place, consecrated to God, but now desecrated and most foul. Off to the side lay the bodies of the Pope and many of his cardinals, still and cold.

Rubbing her eyes, and trying to fight her growing sense of dread, Dawn rose to her feet.

An altar stood before her, its Christian trappings stripped away, now every bit as desecrated as the building itself, covered in queer markings and malignantly suggestive symbols. Upon the altar lay a body – a man, with pale skin, dark hair, and pleasant features. There were four bookstands arranged in a semi-circle around the elder sign that held her in place, upon which such tomes as Kitab al Azif, the Pnakotic Manuscript, the Book of Eibon, and the Ponape Scriptures were careful placed, and a vampire stood before each book, all of them eyeing her hungrily, but unable to reach her thanks to the same binding circle that kept her prisoner.

"Ah, Dawnie, you're awake!" came a vaguely familiar voice. "Do you mind if I call you Dawnie?"

Dawn followed the line of the sound with her eyes until she saw the vampire that had killed Buffy that one time – blonde hair, casually dressed, even now – Alisoun.

She didn't answer the vampire's question.

If Alisoun was bothered by it, she made no sign.

"Why am I here?" Dawn asked, her voice unwavering.

Alisoun smiled. "Well, there's the thing. I need you to be the Key for me, Dawnie."

She shook her head. "I'm not the Key anymore. Or if I am, I don't open anything anymore. Glory already tried and failed, and it was kinda a one time deal."

"I'm afraid you're totally, utterly wrong, little girl. Being the Key isn't something you grow out of, like pimples or adolescence. It isn't just a phase of your existence. It IS your existence, Dawnie. It's the being human thing that's just a phase for you - a phase that will be over soon. We're going to wake up an Old One together, you and I. Or at least, close enough."

Dawn's expression hardened. "My sister is so going to kill you."

Alisoun laughed. "Maybe so. But that won't help you, my lovely little Key. It's almost time for you to go to sleep: almost time for your real self to wake up. But I think we've at least got time enough for a bedtime story." Her tone brightened noticeably. "Do you want a story before bedtime, Dawnie?"

Dawn clenched her fists, and Alisoun laughed.

"This is an old story, but then, you're kinda of an old story kind of girl, now aren't you? It goes a little bit like this." Alisoun nodded to a female vampire who stood before the Kitab al Azif.

The vampire immediately began to read aloud from the pages, and though the words were Arabic, all those who heard them understood them. "The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be. Not in the spaces we know, but between them, They walk serene and primal, undimensioned and to us unseen."

"Listen closely to the next part, Dawnie," Alisoun said, holding up a finger, "Because this concerns you."

"Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the Key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. She knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. She knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread."

--------------------------

A dozen crossbow bolts sailed out across the gap between the Slayers and the waiting vampires and demons. It was the second volley that they had loosed, and it served its purpose well – the ranks had been thinned. But there wasn't time for another.

The Slayers met their enemy in tight formation, falling upon the demonic ranks like a whirlwind. A dozen vampires fell in the first few seconds, six more a few seconds later. All too soon, however, the momentum of the charge was halted, and the melee began in earnest, with Buffy and the other Slayers fighting in close as Xander and Andrew hung back, armed with crossbows, to provide some ranged support. Overhead, Andrew's summoned flying monkeys were being a general nuisance to the forces of evil (which he took great pride in), and causing some minor disruption in the ranks of vampires and demons.

But they were a long way from getting to Dawn in the heart of the Vatican.

With the Scythe, Buffy was more effective than the others, but even so, the progress was slow.

Too slow.

-----------------------

"By Their smell can men sometimes know Them near, but of Their semblance can no man know, saving only in the features of those They have begotten on mankind; and of those are there many sorts, differing in likeness from man's truest eidolon to that shape without sight or substance which is Them."

The words had taken on a peculiar kind of power, twisting and writhing beneath the surface of Dawn's mind. The dim flutterings of the alien consciousness began to grow louder. She grit her teeth and set her will to resisting it.

"They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons."

"Why are you telling me this!?" Dawn demanded, now very nearly at a point of true desperation.

Alisoun smiled. "Weren't you listening? This is your bedtime story, Dawnie. It's time to go to sleep. Time to wake up."

------------------------

"Buffy," Xander called, "Go! Save Dawn! We'll handle this!"

Buffy hesitated, and then ducked underneath the swing of a demon's axe, hamstrung the beast, and then decapitated it all in one smooth motion. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Um, Buffy!" Andrew called frantically.

Buffy didn't glance his way, but did tilt her head. He took that as a sign to continue.

"Whatever you do, don't let them wake up the big evil soul eater guy. That girl in Colorado, she showed me... it would be really bad."

"Right."

"Buffy..." Andrew said, his voice thick with a nameless dread.

Buffy sensed it in his voice – this wasn't just one of those things that Andrew said. She met his gaze, and she nodded.

-------------------------

"The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites."

"Kadath in the cold waste hath known Them, and what man knows Kadath? The ice desert of the South and the sunken isles of Ocean hold stones whereon Their seal is engraven, but who hath seen the deep frozen city or the sealed tower long garlanded with seaweed and barnacles? Great Cthulhu is Their cousin, yet can he spy Them only dimly."

--------------------------

Far away, in the City of Angels, Illyria's eyes opened suddenly, and she looked towards the east. Her eyes met Wesley's.

"You told me to go back," she said, "To sleep until the humans are gone."

"Yes."

"Something stirs. An Old One but not. Perhaps today will be the day of humanity's end."

Wesley frowned. After a few minute's thought, he picked up the phone, and dialed Angel's cell phone.

-----------------------

"Iä! Shub-Niggurath! As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. Yog-Sothoth is the Key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, and after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They rule again."

-----------------------

"Mr. Dawson?" Angel asked as he stepped into the conference room where Joe and Duncan were waiting. Two mugs of coffee lay on the table before them, Watcher and Immortal, and both mugs untouched, long since gone cold.

Joe turned.

"We've found him."

At that moment, Angel's cell phone began to ring.

-----------------------

The first vampire closed her book and stepped back, and the second one, before the Book of Eibon stepped forward.

And he began to read.

Passages were read aloud. Blasphemous phrases, filled with darkness and madness. Full of writhing things and things that had learned to walk that ought to crawl. The Book of Eibon. The Pnakotic Manuscript. The Ponape Scriptures. And more from Kitab al Azif. The power of the words took form, and maddening images swirled before Dawn's horrified eyes, even as the consciousness of the Thing within took shape and began to grow.

Even as her humanity began to evaporate.

And Dawn Summers fell into darkness.

-----------------------

Gunn led Angel, Spike, Joe, and Duncan into the Wolfram and Hart corporate garage, moving confidently towards the car that they were to take.

"I started flipping through the brain files as soon as Harmony told me. Figured there had to be some kind of precedent."

"And?" Angel asked.

"Senior partners had trouble with a guy in the Tokyo division way back. Lindsey probably got the tattoo idea from studying up on him."

Angel nodded. "And wherever they sent this guy, that's where Lindsey is."

"Yep."

Joe spoke up, then. "And our friend is in the same place?"

Gunn nodded. "Yep. Same place, different holding cell."

"I hope it's a toy poodle hell," said Spike. "I've had my fill of fire."

"It's not hell. It's a Wolfram & Hart holding dimension."

Angel chuckled. "Meaning what - senior partners haven't decided what to do with Lindsey?"

"Their version of a penalty box."

"Great. So... how are you supposed to get there?"

"Aren't you coming?" Gunn asked.

Angel shook his head. "There's something big going down in Rome."

Duncan and Joe exchanged glances.

Spike immediately stopped in his tracks, glaring death at Angel. "And you forgot to mention this before because...?"

"I wanted to make sure you'd go with Gunn. He's gonna need your help, Spike."

"I think you just want the chance to meet up with Buffy without my being there."

"Well, there's that too."

Duncan blinked. "The two of you know Buffy?"

Angel and Spike both turned towards Duncan, surprise clearly evident on their faces. They each took a moment to size up the Scottsman before answering in unison, brows furrowed in suspicion, "How do you know Buffy?"

Gunn tapped a finger to his watch. "Don't have any time to spare here."

Spike glared at both Angel and Duncan... and then sighed and nodded. "Fine. But next time Buffy's in danger, I get to go rescue her."

Angel nodded. "Deal."

---------------------------

Alisoun's smile took on a note of triumph as Dawn slumped to the ground within her binding circle. "I think we're ready to finish this."

"You ain't kiddin'," Buffy replied as she stepped through the massive double doors. She held the scythe in her hands, and the dusty remains of the two vampires on guard duty still drifted faintly in the air around her. She took in the scene in the chapel, and her expression hardened, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "What have you done to my sister?"

Alisoun shrugged. "Hastened the process a little. I think it's about time she grew out of this whole 'human' phase, don't you?"

Buffy's face became as stone, and she raised the scythe to do battle.

And the vampires began to chant.

-------------------------

She descended through an endless sea of black ichor, sinking ever deeper into darkness. Queer, wriggling things brushed against her form, and the ichor itself took shape, sprouting mouths and fangs and claws and teeth, birthing itself into a million forms of new life and old life.

Dawn continued to sink.

Finally, she reached the bottom, and fell through with a sick wet noise to the ground below. Above her floated the sea of dark life, and all around, as far as her eyes could see, were massive, floating, malignantly suggestive iridescent orbs, each one several miles across.

In the distance, four voices chanted in unison, speaking a language never meant to be pronounced by human tongues, and never meant to be heard by human ears. "N'gai, n'gha'ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y'hah;" they intoned, "Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth."

A ripple of light spread across the iridescent spheres, and Dawn stared at it in rapt fascination for a long moment.

Abruptly, a woman spoke close at hand, and although she had never seen her before, she recognized the woman immediately. Brown hair with blue streaks, metallic blue eyes, reptilian mannerisms, and clad all in leather, Illyria stood before her. Somewhere behind Dawn was a warm light. She didn't turn to face it, yet there it remained.

"Your current situation is intolerable," the Old One informed her dispassionately.

"You're tellin' me?"

"I am glad you agree. End this, then. End this and take the power that is yours by right."

Dawn blinked. "... Huh?"

A faint look of annoyance flashed across the Old One's face. "I see that this will take a while. Perhaps too long."

-----------------------

Pleasant two story homes with white picket fences stretched for as far as the eye could see, every one of them exactly the same as every other one, with shingle roofs, green lawns, and rose gardens. The sun shone brightly overhead, and the sky was as blue as it could be without shifting into ultraviolet. Birds chirped pleasantly to one another across the suburban landscape, and a slight breeze brought the warmth of the sun down to a more comfortable level.

Before one of these excessively pleasant homes stood Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson, both appearing slightly nonplused.

"So... this is hell," said Joe, his tone showing that he thought his pronouncement to be somewhat dubious in nature.

Duncan smiled faintly. "I thought there'd be fire. Or at least torture and screaming."

Joe shrugged. "I guess not. You ready to do this?"

Duncan nodded. Side by side, they approached the door of the home before them.

-----------------------

Buffy wasted no time trading blows. When she struck, she struck to cripple or to kill. It was a testament to Alisoun's sheer fighting ability that she wasn't destroyed after the first five moves. The vampire leaped over the scythe's sweeping arc, barely avoiding having her legs severed at the knees, only to drop flat to the ground to avoid the follow up jab with the scythe's stake-end that would have reduced her to so much dust had it landed.

Hard-eyed and fell, Buffy fought on, determined to save, or if not save, at least avenge, her sister.

As she fought, the other four vampires spoke as one, four voices chanting in unison, speaking a language never meant to be pronounced by human tongues, and never meant to be heard by human ears. "N'gai, n'gha'ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y'hah;" they intoned, "Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth."

And a sickly green light began to seep out of Dawn's fallen body.

----------------------

Duncan had wondered what exactly these 'Senior Partners' could possibly do to Methos to make him see things their way. Now, confronted with the reality of it, his heart sank into his feet.

Alexa had answered the door. Vibrant, and full of life, and clad in a yellow sundress, she'd answered the door, her voice ringing with the clear, jubilant tone of one who loves life as she asked, "Can I help you?"

Both Duncan and Joe stared in mute shock, neither quite sure of what to do. After a moment, Duncan spoke, and thanks to long centuries of practice, managed to keep the surprise out of his voice. "Is Adam here?"

Alexa nodded. "Yes, he's out back. Are you friends of his?"

Duncan nodded, smiling pleasantly. "Very old friends."

Alexa smiled. "Well then, come in, come in. I'll just go get Adam." She turned and headed back inside, and the two men followed her in, shutting the door behind them.

Duncan tried to ignore that sinking feeling like the ground had just fallen out from under him.

-----------------------

"Seize the power for your own, girl," said Illyria, her metallic blue eyes boring into Dawn's own. "Seize the power and become what you were meant to be. Ye shall be as a god. Even the rulers of hell and the abyss will quail before your might."

Dawn frowned. As tempting as it was, something about this seemed wrong, somehow. She could almost FEEL fortune's wheel turning, though whether to raise her up or grind her into the dust, she couldn't say. "I..."

"Exactly," said Illyria.

For a moment, Dawn seemed to grow, a terrible power gathering all around her. Her shadow lengthened, and there was a hidden menace in her eyes.

For a moment.

And then she was Dawn. Just Dawn.

"Why do you cling to your tattered humanity? It is a shadow. A bit of smoke that will soon be blown away in the wind."

Dawn said nothing.

Distantly, the chant echoed a second time: "N'gai, n'gha'ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y'hah; Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth." The iridescent spheres rippled.

Illyria grew angry. "How can you live within such a feeble, pitiful shell? How can you breathe? There is no room for anything real in that world. Why do you wallow in such emotions? Allow your behavior to be affected by mere chemicals, seeping through your human brain?"

"It's all I've ever known."

"Perhaps. But you can seize a much higher destiny. Reach out your hand and take it, young one. Do you want to die, swallowed up in your greater self, a dissolute shadow within a consciousness so alien to your kind that knowing it would break your feeble mind?"

Dawn's voice wavered, and her terror was clearly evident. She shook her head. "No, I don't want to die."

The warm light behind the girl grew slightly brighter, and ever so faintly, a gentle, familiar voice whispered, "Dawn..."

Dawn didn't turn towards it.

"Then don't. Reach out your hand and take that power. Use it to crush your enemies. You will be as a god to these pathetic mortals. They shall come and worship you, sacrificing themselves and one another for your pleasure. And you shall be Unchained. Free to travel the infinite worlds as you please, to walk worlds of smoke and half-truths, intangible. Worlds of torment and of unnamable beauty. Opaline towers as high as small moons. Glaciers that ripple with insensate lust. All of this can be yours."

The dream that she had had what seemed like so long ago flickered in her mind for a moment. Buffy, Faith, chained before her, being sacrificed for her pleasure. All people the world across coming to worship her. For a moment, it actually seemed appealing. For a moment, she wanted it. But then what was left of her humanity reasserted itself, and she screamed, "NO!"

The denial reverberated throughout the iridescent spheres and through the lake of dark life, rumbling and echoing endlessly. After a few moments, the echoes pitched upwards, becoming a shrill whine, and then a pressure on the ears, and then nothing at all.

Illyria cocked her head, as if still listening to those echoes that had passed beyond the human range of hearing. "If you will not choose to continue your existence, I can not help you. Fall into Yog-Sothoth and be no more, Dawn Summers. Your end is only moments away."

Illyria vanished, leaving Dawn alone with the spheres, and the black sea, and the warm light.

Dawn fell to her knees, sobbing.

-------------------------

Methos walked into the living room with a smile on his face. "Joe! MacLeod!" he called cheerfully, "To what do I owe the honor?"

The house looked excessively pleasant, with nice furniture, tasteful decorations, tasteful wallpaper... the only thing that really looked out of place was that the door leading to the basement had been boarded up.

Duncan looked around at the pleasant, suburban home. "We, ah, came to rescue you?"

An awkward silence fell, then, broken a few moments later by Methos' laughter. "I appreciate the gesture, MacLeod, but I don't need to be rescued."

Duncan looked hopelessly lost for a few moments, exchanged glances with Joe, and then shrugged helplessly.

"Care for a beer?" Methos asked.

"Uh... Sure."

Methos went off to the kitchen, followed closely by his wife, leaving Duncan and Joe alone in the living room.

"What do you think?" Duncan asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Joe looked thoughtful for a long moment, and then shook his head wearily. "I think we should leave it alone."

MacLeod frowned. "He's a prisoner, he just doesn't know it. And you heard the recording of his kidnapping. 'Let's just say we have a place prepared for you?' 'Somewhere you'll have time to think?' 'Clear your head?' 'Until you come around to our way of thinking?' Any of this sounding familiar, Joe?"

Joe looked as though he'd swallowed a lemon. "Leave it be, Mac."

"It's wrong, Joe. It's not real. We have to help him."

"But he's happy..."

Methos stepped back into the living room, then, carrying three bottles of beer, and his expression was hard. "I see," he said. Both Joe and Duncan turned to face him.

Alexa stood at the door, her expression unreadable.

"You heard?"

"I heard."

Duncan nodded faintly. "You know that none of this is real, don't you?"

"I know."

"Then come with us. We need you back in the real world, Methos."

Methos placed the beers on the coffee table and crossed his arms. "No."

Duncan grew angry. "But it's not real! You're a slave to these illusions!"

Methos smiled faintly, but there was a hint of bitterness to it. "Aren't we all?" he asked.

Duncan's anger faltered, and he frowned.

"I met Buddha, once, you know. I even traveled with him for a while."

Joe raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help himself, he had to ask, "What was he like?"

"Nice guy. He had good ideas. Despite what you may have heard otherwise, he was just a guy. He knew a few things, sure, but he was still just a guy." Methos shrugged. "But if all of life is an illusion, what does it matter whether I embrace this particular one? I'm happy here."

"It's an awfully uncertain happiness, Methos. These 'senior partners' could snatch it away from you any time they like. What will you do then? What if they're only allowing you to experience this in order to make you willing to do anything, even become Death again, to keep it?"

"All happiness is uncertain, Mac. All happiness might end at any moment."

Joe spoke, then. He could see quite clearly that this line of argument wasn't getting anywhere, so he tried another. "There are people out there who need you, Methos. People who are counting on you."

Alexa's voice cut through the argument like a knife. "I think you should go, Adam," she said, her voice filled with sadness.

Her words caught Methos just as he was opening his mouth to speak. He sputtered, turned towards her, and stared for a moment. "What?"

Alexa smiled sadly. "I'm not her, you know. I can never be her. And you'll never really be happy with me. Not really."

"But..."

Duncan and Joe were both shocked by her words, and said nothing.

"Go, Adam."

"Come with me."

Alexa shook her head. "I cannot leave this place. My contract with Wolfram and Hart binds me here. But you, you can leave. And you should."

Methos stood in silence for a long moment.

Finally, he stepped forward, wrapped his arms around the demon that had taken his wife's form, and kissed her passionately.

"I love you," she whispered, just as the kiss broke. She was crying now.

He smiled sadly, and tears were forming in his eyes. "I know," he said. A demon loved him. Really loved him. And God help him, for all that she said otherwise, and for all that he knew that she wasn't really Alexa, he loved her back. "What about the Wrath?" he asked.

Alexa wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn't stop. At length, she smiled thinly and said, "Leave him to me."

-------------------------------

Dawn kneeled alone before the iridescent spheres beneath the sea of dark life, weeping. Illyria had not returned, and she knew that it would not be long now before she was no more. And still the warm light glowed just behind her. And still she did not turn.

The warm light behind the girl grew slightly brighter, and ever so faintly, a gentle, familiar voice whispered once again, "Dawn..."

At last, she turned.

Her eyes widened.

There, surrounded by the brilliance of Love and robed all in white, stood Joyce Summers.

"Mommy?" Dawn whispered, scarcely able to believe her eyes.

Joyce smiled. "Hello, Dawn."

Dawn tried to race to her mother. Tried to run to her and hug her with all her strength. But her strength had failed her, and she collapsed.

Joyce went to her and scooped Dawn up into her strong, gentle arms. A mother's arms. "Oh, Dawnie," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Dawn clung to her mother, then, weeping. "Mommy, I was so scared..."

"Listen to me, Dawn. I love you, but you don't have much time."

Dawn looked up at Joyce. "Why is this happening?"

"You know."

Dawn fell silent for a moment. "... It's because I'm not real."

Joyce nodded sadly. "Yes."

Dawn didn't say anything to that.

"But you have a chance to become real, Dawn. And your other self, the old one, has a chance for redemption."

Dawn's eyes burned now with hope. "How?" she asked.

Four voices echoed across the spheres yet again, chanting in unison. "N'gai, n'gha'ghaa, bugg-shoggog, y'hah; Yog-Sothoth, Yog-Sothoth."

Dawn shuddered, and ripples spread across the spheres again. Only this time, the ripples didn't stop. They began to grow ever more intense.

"You have to die, Dawn."

"WHAT!?"

"You have to willingly surrender to death. In order to be saved, you must willingly make the long, slow descent into nonentity. Only after you have willingly relinquished your self can that self be saved."

"I don't understand..."

Joyce smiled sadly. "Dawn, listen very carefully, because I'm not allowed to help you any more after I tell you this. Are you ready?"

Dawn nodded.

"Unless a seed go into the ground and die..." Joyce trailed off, and became silent.

Dawn looked at her mother for a long moment. Indecision plagued her, and doubts flocked about her like birds. At length, however, she nodded. "What do I have to do?"

Joyce held out her hand, and a great tunnel of light appeared behind her. "Take my hand, and come with me."

She took her mother's hand, and together they walked into the light. Everything blurred around her in furious motion... and then she stood on the tower.

The tower.

And the blood flowed freely from her wounds.

And the portal crackled beneath her.

And the sun was rising in the distance.

She jumped, and she fell. Graceful, beautiful, she fell.

And Dawn Summers died.

----------------------------

In the hall of worship, beneath the elder sign, Dawn's body burst into a huge, malignantly suggestive iridescent orb. There was an intense flash of green light, and then it was gone.

"DAWN!" Buffy screamed.

"Too late, Slayer!" Alisoun crowed in triumph. "Too late! Your sister is gone, and I've won!"

Buffy's next blow cleaved Alisoun in twain at the waist, and the vampire's torso slowly slid off of her legs and fell to the ground with a thump. "Maybe," said the Slayer, her voice as cold as death, "But you won't live to see your victory."

Alisoun looked down in shock. "What...? But I won...!"

And then Buffy shoved the reverse end of the scythe into the vampiric Slayer's heart.

Alisoun burst apart in a cloud of dust, and was no more.

But she had spoken truly. It was indeed too late. With the release of Dawn's energies as the Key, the seals keeping Eater of Souls chained were broken.

At that moment, Willow finished her protection spell. A great wind rushed out across the city, and each of its targets felt a sudden sense of warmth and security.

The elder sign upon which Dawn had been bound shattered, and stone chips flew in every direction. And then a torrent of black energy erupted up out of it. The roof disintegrated. The building disintegrated. The vampires who had been chanting were blasted to ash. And the power of Eater of Souls reached out across the city, consuming everything it touched, fuel for the flames of rebirth.

But Buffy, protected by Willow's spell, stood fast. There, upon the altar, a figure was rising.

"Oh no you don't!" the Slayer yelled as she rushed towards the figure. She raised the Scythe, and then swung down, decapitating Eater of Souls in one smooth movement, and long before he had fully awakened.

Buffy grinned a feral grin. "No apocalypse for you, Buddy," she informed the headless corpse.

And that was when the quickening hit her, shattering through Willow's protection spell as if it were glass. As her every nerve exploded in agony, Buffy reflected, "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...!"

And the black energy didn't stop. It flowed out from the shattered seal, but now, without Eater of Souls to flow into, it went into the Slayer.

Waves of destructive energy pulsed out from the Vatican City, vast tendrils forming and stretching across Rome, pulsing and writhing grotesquely, like bloated, corpulent veins. Buildings crumbled, and explosions rocked the city. And all across Rome, hundreds of thousands of humans literally exploded in showers of gore, and a small mote of white light rose from each steaming pile of blood and guts, each of them absorbed by the energy-tendrils with an agonized scream.

Death had come to Rome, and only those upon whom Willow had placed her protection were spared.

And in the chapel, Buffy's screams echoed endlessly as her eyes slowly darkened to black.

-----------------------

Far away, in the home that she and Methos had once shared, the demon in Alexa's form sat and wept. Methos had gone. His friends had gone. She was alone with the Wrath.

And that was when the Senior Partners made their move.

Blue light flashed in her eyes, and the demon screamed in agony as the human soul of Alexa entered her body, and she collapsed.

Silence hung over the house for a few long moments.

And then Alexa sat up, looked around, and asked, "... Adam?"

The silence of the empty house was her only answer.

END CHAPTER 16

----------------------------

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!

And remember, it isn't over yet.


	22. What Rough Beast

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 17: What Rough Beast

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

-----------------------------

Rome was burning.

It began in the Vatican City: a torrent of terrible black energy erupting from the elder sign that had bound the Key. The power of Eater of Souls was unleashed, and everything it touched, died.

Worse than died.

Waves of destructive energy pulsed out from the Vatican City, vast tendrils forming and stretching across Rome, pulsing and writhing grotesquely, like bloated, corpulent veins. And all across Rome, hundreds of thousands of humans literally exploded in showers of gore, and a small mote of white light rose from each steaming pile of blood and guts, each of them absorbed by the energy-tendrils with an agonized scream.

More.

And more.

And more.

Hundreds of thousands were worse than dead.

More.

All of them absorbed into the corpulent mass that was the power of Eater of Souls unleashed.

Buildings disintegrated: entire city blocks, gone in the blink of an eye. In an instant, all of Rome was filled with black fire. In an instant, every man, woman and child, demon and otherwise, worse than died: ashes to ashes; dust to dust; soul to flame.

Only those people upon whom Willow had placed her protection were spared. Only the old Watcher's Academy, upon which the protection spell had been centered, stood fast against the storm.

And in the rubble that was once the Vatican City, Buffy floated, screaming, as the Dark Quickening swept around her and through her, her body shaking like a leaf in a gale.

Her eyes were as black as pitch.

Distantly, she was aware of some portion of the Quickening being siphoned off through her link to Faith. And in that moment, even as the Eater of Souls sought to consume her, she became aware of the others. She could sense them all: every Immortal, everywhere. She could feel the fragments of Osiris within them, and also those fragments that had yet to find a human host, still waiting for their time to be born into the world.

She had one crystalline moment to marvel at the beauty of it all before the power reached its peak, carrying with it the consciousness of Eater of Souls.

And Buffy's consciousness was swept away in the flood.

--------------------------

Within the room where she yet lay recovering from her injuries, the power of the Quickening struck Faith with all the fury of a hurricane. Her eyes shot wide open as black lightning crackled madly around her form, utterly destroying both bed and room alike. Even as she began to scream, the world went black.

--------------------------

Xander blinked. It took several long moments for the devastation to really register with him, but when it did, his jaw dropped open and he stared about in abject disbelief. One moment, he and the others had been fighting for their lives in the Vatican City. A gust of hot air had passed over him, and the next moment, they were standing alone amongst so much rubble. Their enemies were simply GONE.

As was pretty much everything else for as far as the eye could see in any direction.

"Did we lose?" he asked.

It was Kennedy who replied. "If we'd lost, wouldn't we be dead?"

"Maybe we're dead, then. We could all be ghosts-YEOW!" Xander's statement became a yelp in mid sentence as Kennedy reached over and pinched him, hard.

"OK, maybe not ghosts, then."

Xander shook his head. He had to pull it together here. He glanced towards Andrew, who had sunk to his knees on the rubble and was gazing about in wide-eyed horror.

"OK," Xander said, "Is everyone present and accounted for? Anyone missing any body parts?"

Some sixteen fingers pointed at his eye-patch.

Xander's good eye twitched slightly. "Besides that?"

Nobody said a word, but in spite of the gravity of the situation, more than a few of the Slayers grinned at that.

After treating what injuries there were, the group set out in search of Buffy and Dawn. With any luck, those two were still alive somewhere in this rubble.

With any luck.

------------------------------

Faith awoke lying on the floor of a small wooden cabin. Small, but cozy: one room, with one bed, and two blankets lying on the floor next to it that didn't look like they'd been used in some time. There was a stone fireplace against the far wall with a cooking pot suspended by a small pole over where the fire would ordinarily burn. Light streamed in through the windows, but it didn't look like sunlight.

Faith grimaced as she sat up and quickly glanced about.

She was alone.

"OK. Recovering in bed, pain, and now here." Faith paused a moment, rose to her feet, and then grumbled, "Damn, why am I the one who's always stuck with these lame vision quests? First Angelus, now this..." She trailed off, shook her head wearily, and then headed for the door to the cabin.

**FLASH**

She stood and watched as two young girls – sisters – raced across an unspeakably beautiful glade, in a small, green valley amongst the snow-capped mountains, with the roar of waterfalls just barely audible in the distance. Joyce Summers sat nearby on a blanket lain out on the grass, with a middle-aged man sitting close beside her, and a picnic spread laid out on the blanket.

Joyce watched her daughters fondly for a few minutes before calling them over to eat lunch. And Faith watched as the family sat down and ate, and laughed, and had one perfect day. Joyce, Hank, Buffy, and Dawn.

**FLASH**

Faith blinked, and once again, she was inside the old cabin. "Ok," she spoke to the empty air, "what the hell was that?"

The room said nothing.

---------------------

"Buffy!" Xander called, his voice echoing loudly across the ruins. Buffy didn't answer. They had spread out across the ruins in search of her, but had thus far been unable to find the Immortal Slayer.

The silence was unnerving.

Although he had not been in Rome long, Xander had grown used to the constant hum of the city's background noise. But now, the only noise was what he, Andrew, and the Slayers caused.

Every scrabbling up and down a pile of rubble was deafening.

Every cough, every word, every call was preternaturally loud.

Just as the silence began to grow positively oppressive, Xander reached the top of a small rise, and found himself standing on the edge of a large crater, several hundred meters across. The surface had been turned to glass, and in the center, Buffy stood alone, her eyes shut, and her clothing in such tatters that one would almost think that she'd lived through, say, an Apocalypse. That crazy axe-stake thing that she insisted on calling a scythe lay forgotten at her feet.

"BUFFY!" Xander called as he scrambled down the side of the crater towards the Slayer. "SHE'S HERE!"

Buffy opened her eyes and looked towards Xander.

Her eyes were completely black.

Black within black.

"Interesting," she said, running her hands over her body for a few moments. "I've never been a woman before."

Xander's mouth went dry, and he felt that horrible sinking feeling that usually meant that the floor had just fallen out from under you.

---------------------

"They smell good, don't they?" Buffy asked.

Faith turned around, only to find herself standing in the spare room in the Summers home. Only now it was all cleared out, and ready for... who? Faith shook her head. That didn't matter now. "What?" she asked.

The sun shone through the curtain lace, and shadows washed the room. It was late afternoon in Sunnydale.

Buffy smiled. "Clean sheets. Like summer."

"I wouldn't know."

Buffy's smile vanished. "Right. I forgot."

There were two pinecones on the clean white sheets.

Faith frowned. "B, you ever get the feeling you've done this before?"

"There's nothing new under the sun," Buffy said, and it sounded like she was making a quotation.

Faith raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you pick that one up?"

"He told me."

"He?"

Buffy nodded, gesturing vaguely off to the left. "He."

Faith turned and looked.

A tall, horribly gaunt figure of a man stood in the corner, dressed all in black, watching the scene unfold with great interest.

Faith shivered. "Why's he here?"

"This is going to be his room now."

That seemed wrong, though she couldn't quite put a finger on why. "You sure this is supposed to be his room?" Faith asked.

Buffy nodded. "He said so."

----------------------

"Buffy?" Xander asked, his expression hopeful.

She ignored him, and instead looked down into the reflective surface of the crater floor. "Hmm," she mused at her reflection.

Xander's countenance fell. "Eater of Souls?" he asked in a hopeless voice.

At that, Eater of Souls turned and looked at him. "Yes, I remember that. What they call me. Not my name, but what they call me." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Who are you that presumes to speak to me?"

"Where's Buffy?"

"Buffy is the name of this shell," she mused. "Her memories are very interesting." Eater of Souls grew angry, then. She held out her hand, and a sword forged of purest darkness appeared in her grasp as she moved towards Xander. "You think that because you knew her you can speak to me with such a tone?"

Kennedy came over the rise, then, with Rona at her side. She took in the situation in an instant, and then rushed down to retrieve the Scythe that yet lay forgotten in the center of the crater.

Clear-eyed and determined, Xander did not flinch from the creature's approach. "Buffy," he said, meeting her black-eyed gaze, "I know you're in there somewhere..."

That certainly did not please Eater of Souls. She raised her sword and prepared to cut the young man down. "You seek to save what is rotten through," she hissed.

The black sword descended.

Xander clenched his eyes shut.

A loud clang of metal on metal echoed across the crater. Xander opened his eyes, and quickly patted his arms and legs to make sure that nothing was missing.

Kennedy, wielding the Scythe, had parried the blow.

Her will was set – she would not yield. Through her Slayer abilities, she could plainly sense that Buffy had become Something Else, and she wasn't about to let that Something Else hurt her girlfriend's best friend. "Get away from him," she said.

Eater of Souls' eyes narrowed.

--------------------------

Faith shook her head. She couldn't seem to think clearly – it felt as though her head was wrapped in cloth. There was something about this room... something she should know. She certainly didn't like the look of the Gaunt Man, whoever he was.

Her eyes widened slightly as she came to a sudden realization. "Isn't this Dawn's room?" she asked.

At those words, the room and everything in it shattered like glass. When the world returned, she stood with Buffy and Dawn atop a strange tower, with the portal crackling below, and the sun rising in the distance.

Before Faith could so much as get her bearings, Buffy ran and leaped from the tower, falling into the portal... and then through it. She hit the ground, quite dead.

Dawn screamed Buffy's name soundlessly.

Buffy stepped out from behind the dark Slayer. "Dawn," she said. "I remember."

"I get that. Did we really need a show and tell?"

Buffy's expression cleared, then, and for the first time, she really seemed to see the other Slayer. "Faith," she said, "What are you doing here?"

Faith shrugged. "You tell me, B. It's your head we're in. I think."

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but in that moment, the Gaunt Man appeared on the tower, and Buffy's eyes instantly lost focus, and she fell silent.

Faith turned towards the Gaunt Man.

"You're not supposed to be here," he informed her in a cold, deadly voice.

Faith laughed. "That's my line."

The Gaunt Man's face twisted into an expression of incalculable hatred, and faster than the eye could perceive, he lunged at her, his hand at her throat.

Caught off guard, Faith fell. And the Gaunt Man fell with her: into the crackling portal.

The world was swallowed by fire.

----------------------------

Kennedy faced off against Eater of Souls, the scythe set against the blade of darkness. Their eyes met, and their wills clashed silently in a moment that seemed to stretch out for all eternity.

And then Eater of Souls threw off Kennedy's attack, pivoted, and brought the sword around to cleave her in twain. Kennedy leaped over the blow, kicking Eater of Souls in the face as she flipped backwards and out of range. Eater of Souls staggered for a bare second before recovering and sending sword in search of flesh.

The other Slayers gathered around the rim of the crater and watched as one of their own fought against the beast that had taken their leader's body. Both fought as true masters, and the ring of metal on metal filled the air again and again in peculiar rhythms.

And Xander watched, his jaw slightly agape.

That was how Willow found him with her telepathic probe. -Xander, what's happening?-

He told her.

There was silence on the other end of the link.

-Do you have any ideas?- she sent at last.

Xander thought about that for a moment. -... Does Giles still have that gourd?-

After a few moments, Willow sent her reply. -He does.-

Xander gave a mental nod. -OK, Wills, here's the plan...-

-----------------------

Through fire and darkness, they fell.

Through death and pain, they fell.

And then they fell into glory.

The Gaunt Man released Faith and shrieked in agony as they landed in the midst of a vast green country. And then he was gone.

Wearily, the dark slayer rose to her feet.

What she saw then took her breath away.

Before her a vast green country stretched endlessly as far as she could see. The mists of dawn curled gently over the surface of the shining lake, and through the trees all around, and over the rolling hills. Nothing here was unfamiliar. The lake was a lake, and the hills were hills, and the trees were trees, and they were yet unlike their earthly cousins; more awful, more divine. In the far distance were great mountains, and it seemed to her that all the land led that way, towards the mountains, and towards the cities that she could dimly see perched upon their peaks in the predawn light.

But most of all, the whole place felt like she had gotten out. And really OUT. There was a delicious sense of freedom here, and such a sense of being outdoors that it made the whole of the solar system seem a cozy, indoor affair.

She knew that there was far more here than what she was seeing. Somewhere deep within, she could feel the coldness that had knotted itself around her heart begin to melt away. She felt as though she had come home – as though this was where she BELONGED, and had always belonged, and that all of the things that she had wanted so desperately in her life had only been wanted because of what they reflected of this place.

And then it was gone.

She saw a flash of Buffy's eyes staring down at her, and two words were spoken: "GET OUT."

She was falling, with the Gaunt Man's hands around her throat. Out of death and darkness, out of pain and fire.

She landed on the grass of Yosemite, with the Summers family enjoying their picnic close at hand. Screaming in fury for the sense of terrible loss that she felt at having been removed from that far green country, Faith threw the Gaunt Man off of her and rose to her feet.

The Gaunt Man wavered unsteadily. That place had burned him to the core, and it showed. Yet still he stood and did battle with the dark slayer.

Yet still did he have more than enough power to match her blow for blow. Match her, and more.

Battle was joined.

----------------------

All it took was one misstep, and the battle was lost.

With a resounding clang, the scythe went flying out of Kennedy's hands. Her eyes widened in shock as Eater of Souls ran her through with the dark blade.

Or rather, tried to.

Even as the black sword connected with Kennedy's chest, there was a violent flare of protective magic, and both Slayer and monster were sent flying. Kennedy hit the crater wall and was instantly knocked unconscious. Eater of Souls, however, recovered more easily.

Rising to her feet, the thing wearing Buffy's body grimaced distastefully. "Magic," it sneered.

The other Slayers moved forward to meet Eater of Souls in battle, then, but Xander forestalled them with a raised hand.

He stepped forward. "Buffy, if you can hear me," he said, "then FIGHT. We've stopped too many of these things to be beaten now."

Eater of Souls sneered. "Do you have another crayon speech handy, Alexander Harris?" she asked, clearly gaining access to more and more of Buffy's memories. "The one you seek is dead. Her soul was the fuel for the fire of my rebirth."

Xander shook his head, smiling faintly. "I don't have any more crayon speeches. But it does apply. I really do love you, Buffy."

"Very touching, boy," she said, "But it won't save you." Eater of Souls struck him down, then, smashing the flat of her sword into the side of his head.

Xander fell.

And in that moment, the spell being cast at Xander's behest back at Slayer Central was completed, and Giles and Willow were suddenly there with him.

He rose to his feet, his eyes golden, and filled with new strength.

"Maybe not," he said, and his voice rang with the overtones of Giles and Willow's voices, "But we do have some surprises left."

-----------------------------

Battle turned to desperation, and desperate battle soon turned to true despair, and Faith fell before the Gaunt Man. Her blood splattered on the green grass as he continued to rain down blows. She continued to struggle, but it was clear at this point that she had no hope of victory.

Even as he rained down blow after blow, Faith's eyes met the eyes of the younger Buffy. "B..." she called weakly, "Help me..."

The Gaunt Man stepped back, allowing Faith a few moments reprieve. "There is no one who can help you here, girl. You're all alone. There's no one to save you. No one who cares."

Young Buffy turned towards Faith and the Gaunt Man, but said nothing. Joyce tried to get her to eat the rest of her sandwich, but she ignored her mother. Two pinecones lay at her feet: the same two pinecones that had lain on the bed not long ago.

Faith spit in the Gaunt Man's face, and the spit was full of blood.

"Now," he said, producing from his coat a dagger covered with evil runes, "Die." He brought it down, aiming it directly at Faith's heart.

And young Buffy spoke. Shouted. Screamed. "NO!"

She scooped up the first of the pinecones and flung it at the Gaunt Man.

It exploded on impact, blasting him off of Faith and into the nearby creek.

He rose, spluttering, enraged beyond all reason. "YOU DARE!?" he bellowed.

Young Buffy looked down at the second pinecone thoughtfully, and then crushed it in her hand. A green fog swirled out of the crushed pinecone, surrounding her, and obscuring her from view.

When the fog dissipated, it left the Slayer in its wake.

"I dare," she replied evenly.

And for a final time, the world crumbled.

-----------------------

Eater of Souls closed her fist around the black sword, and it vanished. "I think you've troubled me for long enough," she said, her eyes full of hatred. "I think it's time that you all died. And as you suffer forever in the worst of the hells, you will know the extent of your folly in challenging a member of the Black Thorn."

And the power of Eater of Souls was unleashed once more.

It flowed out from Buffy's body in a torrent of purest darkness, seeking to consume all that stood before it.

Xander held up a hand and began to chant Latin, and the dark power stopped short of him; stopped short of the Slayers.

Eater of Souls' anger grew in leaps and bounds. "You will NOT stop me," she hissed.

In that moment, she put forth all of her power, and all of it aimed at the destruction of her enemies.

The protective magic of Xander, Willow and Giles began to crumble.

And In that moment, the Slayer awakened.

-----------------------------

Faith awoke in the shattered remains of her room and sat up. She surveyed the destruction for a few seconds, and then shook her head and spoke to the empty room. "I sure hope you know what you're doing, B."

Even as she spoke, the memory of That Place rose up within her. Buffy's memory of That Place. Its loss was as a physical blow.

Faith shook her head, and wiped her eyes, and tried not to cry.

----------------------------

As Faith vanished, Buffy approached the Gaunt Man fearlessly.

He watched her as one might watch a dangerous snake, uncertain of what she intended, but fearful nonetheless. "What exactly do you think YOU can do? This is my body now, and soon, it will be my mind as well."

Buffy looked down at what she yet held in her hands. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe this." And with that, she flung the shards of the crushed pinecone at the Gaunt Man.

He snorted contemptuously, batting the shards out of the air. Or rather, attempting to bat them out of the air.

The shards of wood tore right through his hand, through his chest, through his face, through flesh and through bone. He staggered, and screamed in agony. "WHAT MAGIC IS THIS!?"

----------------------

Eater of Souls staggered suddenly, her eyes widening in shock. A strange green light began to build around her body – Buffy's body – and she sank to her knees.

---------------------

Buffy shook her head. "So you're Eater of Souls? Gotta tell you, I'm not impressed. Big with the lightshow, big with the pain and destruction, but when it comes down to it, you've got nothing."

Green light began to bleed out of his injuries as he struggled to regain his balance. Dawn's light. "I have devoured far more powerful than you," the Gaunt Man hissed. "This is MY body now, MY mind!"

Buffy replied, and as she did, she felt as though another were speaking through her, and her voice resonated in strange ways through the pollen-speckled air of Tuolumne Meadows. "Fool," she said, "do not boast. Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind with all thy charms, although this corporal rind thou hast immanacl'd, while Heav'n sees good." (1)

Even as she said it, Buffy marveled that she would ever say such a thing. Her wonderment was cut short, however, as the Gaunt Man's wounds began to glow ever brighter, and his scream of agony once again filled the air.

He exploded in a terrific blast of green light.

Her ears ringing in the wake of the detonation, Buffy took a moment to fix her hair before looking around. "OK... now what?"

Dawn stood up from where she had been eating with Joyce and Hank Summers. And suddenly, she was no longer a four-year-old Dawn, but a fully-grown modern day Dawn.

"Buffy," she said.

Buffy turned at the sound of her name. She stood in silence at first, looking at Dawn with a searching expression, not sure whether she should trust her eyes or not. At length, she spoke. "Dawnie?" she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.

Dawn smiled warmly. "It's me."

Her eyes guarded, Buffy looked closely at her sister, wary for any kind of trick, and yet... and yet just daring to hope...

Dawn rolled her eyes, clearly understanding what was going through Buffy's head. "When I was four, and we were on vacation in Yosemite, I took your Jem lunchbox, and I threw it into the creek. After Mom spanked me for it, do you remember what I gave you to make up for it?"

"Two pine..." Buffy's expression darkened. "Hey that was my favorite lunchbox!" Her anger passed quickly, however, and a beatific smile lit up her face soon after. She ran to Dawn and caught her in a bone-crunching hug.

"GAAAH! BUFFY! OXYGEN!" Dawn yelped, but she wasn't upset. She returned the hug with everything she had.

"I saw you die, Dawnie..." Buffy whispered as she finally released the younger girl from her Slayer-enhanced embrace.

"I know."

"How...?"

Dawn met Buffy's gaze, and for a moment, Buffy saw what lay beyond her sister's eyes. She saw the unimaginable, monstrous presence that lurked there. And she saw the humanity that had taken root within, and spread all throughout the fabric of Yog Sothoth's being, and the goodness that was even now bringing about something that had once been beyond the realm of possibility: the redemption of an Old One. And all throughout, she saw Dawn.

"How...?" she asked again, staring, bewildered and wide-eyed.

Dawn inclined her head. "Buffy, that is not dead which can eternal lie, and within strange aeons, even death may die."

Buffy nodded faintly, still shocked by what she had seen, and clearly not sure how to take this new bit of news.

They stood there for several moments, neither one saying a word. It was Dawn who broke the silence. "I have to go, Buffy," she said. "I just had to make sure you would be all right before I went. But I have some things I have to figure out. Like, well, the life and times of me." Dawn's lips quirked into a faint smile, "Turns out I'm like a bazillion years old."

That snapped the Slayer back to reality. "Will I see you again?" she asked, her voice filled with concern and love in equal measure.

Dawn's faint smile grew into a full-blown grin. "Definitely."

"Don't stay away too long, ok?"

Dawn smiled. "I won't. But right now, you've got something you still have to do. Your friends need you, Buffy. The other Slayers need you." And then she stepped back and vanished in a swirl of blue light, leaving Buffy alone in the empty bedroom.

Buffy stood in silence for a moment. And then she nodded, her face set with determination. She could feel the spell that Giles and Willow had cast calling to her, urging her to lend her aid. She knew what she had to do.

--------------------

In that moment, Buffy's power joined once more with that of Willow, Giles, and Xander.

In that moment, there was a terrific flash of green light, and the power of Eater of Souls crumbled before them, All of those that it had absorbed were taken up into Buffy, and through her, into the others Slayers, and into the Slayer line.

The blackness in Buffy's eyes lifted, and she fell bonelessly to the ground.

-------------------

Xander sank to his knees as the spell ended, and the Slayers rushed to his side, even as they each felt a rush of strength as the Eater of Souls met its end.

Back at Slayer Central, Faith felt it most strongly of all.

Xander looked towards Buffy's fallen body. "Did we win?" he asked.

Vi shrugged. "I sure hope so."

"Good enough," he said, and then fainted.

------------------

The other Slayers took Buffy, Xander, and Kennedy back to the former Watcher's Academy and tended to them for the next few days. Willow and Giles were none the worse for wear after their experience, but Xander didn't wake up for several hours. Kennedy recovered first, her Slayer healing lending to a very speedy recover.

Buffy, on the other hand...

When the first day passed and she didn't awaken, the others began to worry. Another day passed, and still she lay unconscious on her bed. Another, and another, and soon a week had passed since the incident, and still she had not stirred.

The former renegade Watchers were sent on patrols throughout the city to locate other survivors, and to see what, if anything, could be salvaged from the ruins. Of those who had not been under Willow's protective spell, there were only a few hundred survivors. Supplies enough were located to keep the Academy functional for at least another couple of weeks.

The military quarantine of the city was still in effect, and they did not need to worry about outside interference for at least the few more days that it would take the government to determine that it was safe to allow people to enter the area again.

But it was then, as the Academy's generators had finally begun to run low on petrol, and just as they had begun to consider moving Buffy to a hospital in another city, that Angel arrived in the ruins of Rome.

He had tried to gain entry the day after the incident, and had been caught and detained by the authorities. After a quick escape, and taking several days to wait for their vigilance to slip, he finally successfully made it past the quarantine.

He walked alone through the starlit ruins, but his path was sure. Over craters and through shattered homes and broken streets he wended his way, drawn ever onwards by the knowledge that somewhere in this wreckage, he would find Her.

At last, he arrived at the gates of the only building still standing in what had once been Rome: the Watcher's Academy.

Xander was on guard duty with one of the new Slayers. While the city certainly seemed empty, that was no reason to relax. Who knew what supernatural beasts might have been spawned by the deaths of so many. He was pacing back and forth, a lantern in hand (they didn't have power enough to spare to charge batteries, but they had plenty of kerosene).

"Xander," Angel said.

Xander stiffened immediately, turned, and directed a baleful glare at the ensouled vampire. "Deadboy," he replied. "You missed the Apocalypse."

"Where is she?"

Xander gave Angel a long, searching look before nodding to the Slayer at his side. She quickly opened the gate, and Angel stepped through.

"She's inside," Xander said, pointing to the dormitory that housed Buffy's room.

Through the silent courtyards and through the training grounds he went, ever onwards towards where he knew She would be waiting.

He found her lying asleep in her bed, an IV drip connected to her arm. Willow was asleep in a chair in the corner, with Kennedy asleep in her lap. There was an empty chair at her bedside, and there he sat. "I came for you," he whispered, his heart growing warm at the sight of her.

Willow stirred in the corner and opened her eyes. "mngel?" she asked, her voice thick with both sleep and confusion.

Buffy lay still and cold, her shallow breathing the only sign that she yet lived.

Gently, he knelt down and kissed her.

And she awoke.

A coincidence, perhaps: or perhaps a kiss of true love really does have a kind of magic. Angel woke her with a kiss. Her eyes shining, she kissed him back.

"Hi," he said, and his voice full of love.

In that moment, before the memory of horror and death returned to her, Buffy smiled. "Hi."

END EPISODE 17

----------------------------

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!

(1) You get a cookie if you can name the reference. Another cookie if you can figure out why Buffy said it (and no, 'because you wrote it' does not count).


	23. Redemption Song

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Chapter 18: Redemption Song

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

* * *

_There was a boy  
A very strange, enchanted boy  
They say he wandered very far  
Very far...  
Over land and sea  
A little shy, and sad of eye  
But very wise was he_

_And then one day  
One magic day, he passed my way  
And while we spoke of many things  
Fools and kings  
This he said to me:_  
"_The greatest thing you'll ever learn  
is just to Love, and be Loved in return."_

- Nature Boy, by David Bowie/Massive Attack

* * *

Angel raced through the pouring rain in the alley behind the Hyperion hotel. The Black Thorn was dead and gone, and the Senior Partners were most definitely Not Pleased. He stopped at the chain-link fence at the end of the alley and looked about for the others. Thunder boomed like the crack of doom as the fury of the storm increased.

"Boo," said Spike, as he walked out of the shadows.

"Anyone else?"

"Not so far. You feel the heat?"

Angel nodded. "It's coming."

Spike grinned. "Finally got ourselves a decent brawl."

The sound of running feet splashing through the rain announced Charles Gunn's presence long before he arrived. He was in bad shape after his battle with the vampires at Senator Brucker's campaign headquarters, and he was growing weaker by the minute, but he still sported a faint smile. Home made battle-axe in hand, he let out a weak laugh. "Damn! How did I know the fang boys would pull through?" His voice lost some of its fire to the pain of his wounds. "You're lucky we're on the same side, dogs. My game was tight." He collapsed.

Angel and Spike rushed forward to catch him, and then gently helped him to sit down on a box that lay nearby.

Spike gave Gunn's wounds a quick look. "You're supposed to wear the red stuff on the inside, Charlie-boy."

Gunn looked down at his injuries. "... Any word on Wes?"

Illyria jumped down from the chain-link fence to stand behind Angel. "Wesley's dead."

There was a long moment of silence as the news sank in. Some of the fire went out of Angel's eyes as the heartbreak of having lost yet another dear friend came home to him, along with the very real likelihood that none of them would survive the next few minutes. Spike hung his head, and tears began to stream down Gunn's face.

The noise of a very large crowd began to build at the mouth of the alleyway.

"I'm feeling grief for him," said Illyria, her queer, reptilian eyes shining with unshed tears.

Vague shapes became visible approaching down the alley way as the noise of the crowd grew louder.

Illyria clenched her fist. "I can't seem to control it. I wish to do more violence."

Spike glanced towards the approaching crowd. "Well, wishes just happen to be horses today."

Angel hefted his sword. "Among other things," he quipped.

The surviving members of the Fang Gang watched as the crowd approached. Crowd? More like army. Hundreds. No, make that THOUSANDS of demons approached them. Demons of every sort shape and size imaginable, and of quite a number that weren't. Hell itself was emptied, and every shrieking, gibbering, blasphemous thing from the darkest depths of that nightmare realm had come to destroy the band of Champions who had dared to strike down the Black Thorn. A monstrous roar shattered windows and reverberated through the earth itself. Angel's gaze followed the line of the sound. There. Over the army, a massive winged dragon bore down on their position, nearly overcome with draconic fury.

"OK," said Gunn, "You take the thirty thousand on the left..."

"You're fading," said Illyria. "You'll last ten minutes at best."

Gunn nodded as he rose to his feet, heedless of his obviously mortal wounds. "Then let's make 'em memorable."

Angel stepped forward, and Illyria, Gunn, and Spike followed – Spike on Angel's right side, flanked a step behind by Gunn on the right and Illyria on the left. There was nothing to do but wait for the battle to be joined. The horde of demons approached, and they waited.

"In terms of a plan?" asked Spike.

"We fight," Angel replied.

"Bit more specific."

Angel stepped forward. "Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon."

The demon horde rushed forward, and Angel raised his sword over his head and shouted a single word as loud as he possibly could, in a voice more clear than he had ever achieved in the long years of his life:

"NOW!"

* * *

FLASHBACK: EARLIER THAT DAY

* * *

Buffy stood before the crowd of immortals in the lobby of the Hyperion hotel.

The first thing she had done after waking up from her coma was to enjoy Angel's presence. The SECOND thing, however, was to ask several pressing questions, among them being, "What is the circle of the Black Thorn?"

After several days of debate, they had finally decided upon a course of action, which had led them to the current situation. With the help of the Watchers, they had managed to gather about one hundred Immortals, ranging from the newly immortal to the truly ancient. Many others had not been called here – the headhunters, the truly wicked, and those who had shown themselves concerned only with themselves. It had taken some work to prevent them from simply dueling it out on the spot, but calling in ALL of the Slayers that they had managed to bring into the fold from everywhere in the world had helped: the presence of sixty or so Slayers had gone a long way towards encouraging them to behave themselves, though it had required that a few bones be broken to make the rowdier ones fall into line.

Swallowing nervously, Buffy stepped onto the makeshift podium that they had hastily constructed. The scoobies stood on the sidelines of the crowd, offering their silent support with encouraging looks and nods. She met each of their gazes in turn. Xander. Willow. Giles. 'Ok Buffy,' she thought, 'You can do this.'

She looked out across the crowd of immortals and spotted three familiar faces. Duncan MacLeod – her teacher. Richie Ryan. Methos. Next to them stood ... someone she didn't know - a woman with short dark hair and an impish grin. Her courage bolstered by the presence of her friends, mortal and immortal, she began to speak.

"I suppose you're all wondering why you've been called here, not to mention why you were all disarmed before you were allowed into the building." she said.

A general murmur of agreement went up from the crowd, as well as a few amused looks. Much more common than amusement, however, was a sort of fatalistic resignation. Caught in a building, weaponless, at the mercy of an immortal Slayer with an army of Slayers close at hand, most of the crowd had little doubt that these would be their last moments.

"Most of you are probably thinking that I've lured you all into a brilliant trap so as to collect your heads and reap the power of somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred quickenings."

Dead silence greeted that statement. Unperturbed, Buffy went on.

"I am not here to collect your heads. I have bigger things to worry about than the Game, and more important goals to pursue than the Prize."

Seeing flat disbelief in so VERY many pairs of eyes very nearly made Buffy wince, but she managed to conceal it. Her adrenaline was pumping full force now – she usually didn't feel like this unless she was actually slaying. This was it. Doom would be decided here, now, and by this group.

"For centuries upon centuries, the immortals have fought and died for the Prize. I've heard the whole shpiel. 'Now is the time of the Gathering, blah blah blah, those few who are left battle, blah blah blah blah blah.' You've all heard it before, and you'll all hear it again, provided you keep your heads. But I've learned a secret: the prize is a lie. The sooner you forget it, the better off we'll all be."

Angry mutters spread through the crowd. This was ridiculous. Who was this girl and how dare she claim such a thing of the goal that so many had suffered and died for!

"Yeah, yeah, I figured you wouldn't believe me. Here's the thing – the history of the immortals has been chronicled for as long as long as immortals have been around. I'm sure some of you are familiar with the Watchers. A mortal agency supposedly dedicated to observing and recording the history of immortals, but never interfering, and keeping it secret all the while from the rest of the mortals."

The mutters grew louder then, and for a moment, it looked as though Buffy was going to lose control of the crowd. And then a voice rang out – Duncan MacLeod, his voice yet graced with a faint Scottish accent, "It's true. I've met them. So have Richie and Amanda." So had Methos – hell, Methos WAS a watcher, but he wasn't terribly keen on having his identity revealed to the entire crowd of immortals, and Duncan, respecting his wishes, had left his name out of it.

The mutters died down then. MacLeod, at least, was one they respected. Buffy let out a long shuddering breath. The hurdle had been jumped.

"I've read the Watchers' Diaries," said the Immortal Slayer. "If you want to read them yourself to confirm what I'm saying, they are stacked up on the tables by the settee."

No one moved.

Buffy smiled and went on. "New immortals show up all the time. The overall population of immortals is just as high now as it ever was, and there have been more beheadings in the modern days than at any other time in our history! Now, I've seen the unborn immortals. There are THOUSANDS of them. But eventually, yes, new immortals will no longer be born, and if things go as they are, in the end, there will be only one.

If things go as they are.

Now my question to you is this: do you really want to be the last? When humanity is long dead, do you want to live on still, alone? When sun grows cold, and the last warmth of the earth dies out, do you want to be the last immortal, lingering still on a world that has turned to ash, with no company but your own screams? Would you wish that fate on your worst enemy?"

A long silence greeted that. "...What then?" a voice called out at last, "Are you telling us that there's no point to our existence?"

Buffy shook her head. "I'm telling you that the Game is a lie. A lie to keep us – immortals – so caught up with the need for more power – more quickenings – that we don't see the bigger picture."

She hit her stride, then. Her voice rolled out over the crowd filled with power and confidence. "This world is way older than any of you know," she said, and her eyes met with Giles for just a moment.

Giles, Xander and Willow exchanged amused glances.

"Everyone's got a paradise myth, sure, but they're all wrong. Demons walked the Earth for eons before human beings ever did. They made it their home. They made it their hell. You might have seen the footage that got out of Rome before the quarantine, and I'm sure most of you remember Jasmine, late last year? That was no hoax. Eventually, the true demons lost their purchase on our world, and the way was made for mortals – and immortals. But we are not alone in this world. The vampires, the lesser demons, and the other creatures of darkness – they're all out there, waiting for the animals to die and the Old Ones to return. Most of them wouldn't be opposed to hurrying the process along. There are several attempts to end the world EVERY YEAR. Even if you do want to be the last of us, who will be there to claim the Prize if the world falls to the darkness?"

Silence hung heavily on the room then. The crowd was clearly listening to Buffy. But were they hearing her? She'd find out very soon.

"We've all heard that in the end, there can be only one. But who says so? Why should we fight to the last? It's about power, yes. But it's not about YOUR power. I've learned the truth about immortals. We're being played for fools. Do you know what the prize really is? Your death. We are all children of a long dead Old One who calls himself Osiris, and our souls are the fuel for His rebirth. In the end, there will be only Osiris. And in the meantime, we're kept pleasantly distracted by the forces of the Old Ones with this damned headhunting 'game' so we won't notice them cleaning the humans out of their old home and moving on in."

An older, gruff voice spoke up then. "Why should we believe anything you say? It sounds to me like you're just making up some dark faerie tale to suit your own purposes. What proof can you offer of your claims?"

"You mean besides the diaries?"

Silence.

Buffy turned towards the immortal, and for but a moment, allowed the power that she had taken from Eater of Souls to come to the fore. Her eyes darkened to pools of infinite blackness, and a sense of terrible power mixed with hidden menace filled the room, causing all within to shift uneasily. Although most of the Immortals had never felt such a thing before, it was instantly familiar. Now that Buffy had unveiled herself, however briefly, they could feel their own Quickenings coiling beneath their skin, as if eager to cross the space between their bodies and the Slayer to join the greater mass of Osiris that lay there.

"What...?" the immortal asked, his voice filled with horror and wonder in equal measure.

"You might say I'm a little bit closer to the source, these days," Buffy replied.

The immortal did not challenge her again.

Taking silence for victory, Buffy pushed the power back into the background, and went on. "The one person in this world who means more to me than life itself is taking the fight to them tonight, knowing that it will cost him his life. I spoke with him. He's lost almost all of his hope. He says that the powerful control everything. He says that we are just parts of a machine that will be here long after we are dust. But he hasn't lost ALL hope. He still knows that even if we are just parts of a machine, and even if that machine will be here long after we are dust – even if the powerful control everything, they don't control our will to choose. He says that he'll fight them because it's right – the chances of victory be damned. I say, without our help, he and his WILL die, and Hell's retribution will probably destroy most of the western United States."

The silence of the audience had grown nearly unbearable now, and Buffy could feel her heart racing inside her chest. At length, a voice called out - the voice of Richie Ryan.

"What can we do?"

With her eyes full of intensity and absolute conviction in her voice, Buffy gave him his answer:

"I say that it's time to stop playing Games. The piper may still be playing, but it's time to stop dancing to his tune. This world is harsh, and it's cruel, full of pain, and suffering. The ambitious and the greedy take advantage, and the innocent and the gentle are the ones who pay for it. As Immortals – as Children of Osiris, you have all experienced this for yourselves. Nothing in this world is the way it ought to be. But there are those few who stand against all that. And it doesn't matter where they come from, what they've done or suffered, or even if they make a difference. They live as though the world is what it should be, to show it what it can be. You've been warriors, and you've been healers. You've been lovers, and you've been wanderers. Now it's time to be something else – something that you've never been before. Now it's time to be Champions. Are you with me?"

* * *

END FLASHBACK

* * *

In the alley behind the Hyperion hotel, the army of demonic warriors bore down on Angel, Illyria, Spike and Gun like a tidal wave.

"NOW!"

Angel's shout rang out like the clear tone of a bell, and on the rooftops that lined the alleyway, the slayers rose up, crossbows in hand. "FIRE!" Buffy called from the roof of the Hyperion hotel, where she stood with thirty slayers. A split second later, her orders were echoed by Faith on the opposite rooftop with the other thirty. A hail of "Rosenberg special" crossbow bolts streaked down from the rooftops into the demon hordes. Confined as they were within the narrow space of the alley, they made easy targets. It was as though the front ranks of the demonic army had been shoved into a meat grinder – gore and bits of demon mixed with rainwater sprayed everywhere as the enchanted crossbow bolts detonated on impact.

The dragon went down almost instantly, its wings torn to shreds by fire from Buffy and Faith. Down it went, into the ranks of the enemy, but not out. Although its' leathery wings were ripped and torn, it was old, and its hide was tough.

Angel's heart jumped in his chest, and his eyes came alight with rekindled hope. Buffy had said that she would be there with help, but he'd never expected anything like THIS!

The slayers began firing again as soon as they had reloaded, and the feathered bolts rained down on the demon army like black rain. Yet still the demons pressed forward. Three more volleys, and the enchanted bolts were used up, and it was left to regular ammunition. The kill-rate dropped almost immediately – while still significant, it was no longer enough to halt the charge.

Angel met the demons head-on, with Gunn, Illyria, and Spike at his side.

"Let's get to work."

Battle was joined.

Buffy glanced down at where Angel and his crew had met the first ranks. With the four of them engaging the demons in melee range, the Slayers were forced to direct their crossbow fire to the ranks further back. They were significantly thinning the numbers that got through to the Fang Gang, but on the other side of the rain of feathered death, the ranks of demons were growing.

Angel and Spike fought side by side, the sheer determination and inhuman skill of the one complemented by the raw animalistic savagery of the other. Close by, Illyria carved a path through the demonic army like a primal goddess of death – all who came before her flashing blades met a swift and painful end. The only one doing poorly was the human – Charles Gunn. He was giving as good as he got, yes, but he was bleeding badly, and obviously would not last much longer.

"IMMORTALS!" Buffy called.

One moment Gunn was surrounded by demons, all of them itching to rend him limb from limb. The next, he heard the clattering of the chain-link fence hitting the ground, and then there were sword wielding men and women all around him cutting into the demon ranks. He grinned. He was beginning to feel very, very cold – very numb. It was getting hard to move. Still, he fought on, ramming his axe into the gut of one demon, and then through the throat of another. He took a hit to the shoulder, but stubbornly he refused to fall. A Polgara strode forward to meet him, its hand-spike extended, going for the quick kill.

He cut off its hand at the wrist.

The demon howled in pain... and that was when Gunn fell to pavement, the raindrops splattering noisily before his eyes. The wet pavement was cold, but it seemed wonderfully warm compared to the numbness that had spread throughout his body.

The last thing Charles Gunn saw before he died was the face of Winifred Burkle mouthing his name.

Illyria felt something inside of her snap as she saw Gunn's light – his life - go out. She was distantly aware that she was mouthing his name, and that her eyes seemed to be leaking. But all that faded next to the experience of the raw emotions that had welled up within her – grief mixed with equal parts of pure rage.

Unfamiliar memories came bubbling to the surface of her awareness. Intimate moments shared. Breakfast at the diner near the Hyperion. The ballet. A kiss – their first kiss. It felt like Wesley's death all over again, but worse – now there were two sources of grief instead of one. The fight raged on all around her, but for all that she could see, the world had narrowed to a single point – the body.

The need to destroy, already strong within her, flared into overload. Time-space rippled around her as she fell upon the creatures that had caused this newest grief. And Death followed in her wake.

It was then that the dragon rose to its feet, bellowing its fury for all the world to hear. The very firmament trembled as the echoes swelled and faded within the crowded alleyway, finally dying away into distant bass rumbles.

Seeing the dragon's rise from the wreck, Angel got a strange grin on his face. Hefting his sword, he lunged for the beast.

It noticed.

Flames billowed forth, more terrible than any merely man made fire: a heat born from the heart of hell itself. Dragonfire.

A woman's voice rang out, chanting in Latin.

'This is it,' Angel thought as the flames washed over him...

Only to leave him and those around him untouched. He directed a grateful look up to where Willow stood on the roof of the Hyperion, lending magical support to the Champions who did battle below. But one look was all he had time for – there was a dragon to deal with, and he could not count on another save like that again: not when she had the rest of the battle to attend to.

As the dragon expended the last of its breath and inhaled deeply to begin the process again, Angel made a great vampiric leap, carrying him up – up onto the beast's head. He plunged his sword through the dragon's right eye, through the optic nerve, and beyond into the skull, burying not only the sword, but his entire arm in gore. The monster roared, this time in pain and not fury, tossed its head violently, and then fell to the ground, quite dead.

With the dragon dead, the demon army lost its courage, and began to retreat from the alley. In moments, the retreat became a route as the Slayers poured down upon their ranks from their positions on the buildings on either side of the alley.

It was then that Buffy the Vampire Slayer was reunited with both Angel and Spike upon the field of battle. On that day, three fought as one: strength, ferocity, and skill, driving ever onward, slaying all who stood against them. And the forces of Hell flew before them, and the terror of them filled the hearts of their enemies.

News helicopters wheeled overhead even as the police and the National Guard finally made their lumbering response to the demonic threat. The battle had not gone unnoticed by the human media, and this was something far, far beyond what could be explained by 'gangs on PCP.'

On that day, the human world as a whole became aware of 'the sub-terrestrial threat.'

On that day, everything changed.

Slayers, Immortals, ensouled vampires, and an Old One, united in common cause, standing against the darkness, had scored a great victory that day. The demons had expected but a small group of Champions, and easily overwhelmed by a disorganized, leaderless mob of an army. They certainly had not expected an army of Slayers and Immortals to meet them in battle. Having caught their enemy in the bottleneck of the alleyway, the results were total and complete slaughter.

Much had been lost, and friends had fallen, yet the good fight went on.

The fury of the Senior Partners was dire and terrible, yet even they recognized that the game had changed. Humanity could no longer be lulled into a comfortable sleep by the belief that there was no such thing as demons. The army of the dead Archduke had been destroyed, but they had others. And they had champions of their own. War. Famine. Pestilence.

But not Death.

Not yet.

As for Buffy, she stood there upon the field of victory, Angel upon her right, and Spike upon her left. And she looked upon Spike with forgiveness, and upon Angel, with love. Two men, ever in her heart, ever at odds with one another: they exchanged looks of profound dislike.

Buffy shook her head and sighed. "This is going to be a problem, isn't it?"

END CHAPTER 18

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Let me know!

This is the last chapter of Quickened. There will, however, be an epilogue. Note that I have intentionally left the story wide open for side-stories and sequels. I will most likely come back and write them at some point in the future, but as for now, I must concentrate on other things. Like my Senior Thesis. I may come back and revise the whole thing at some point – there are certainly chapters that I feel could have gone better. But this will have to wait, for a little while at least.

To all of you who have actually read this thing all the way through, thank you.

P.H. Wise


	24. Epilogue: Who Wants to Live Forever?

Quickened  
by P.H. Wise  
A Buffy crossover fanfic

Epilogue: Who Wants to Live Forever?

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. I don't own Angel. I don't own Highlander. Please don't sue me. I'm only a poor starving writer. I have no money.

* * *

Time passed, as it usually does, and slowly. The sun rose, and the sun set. Old enemies were defeated, and new enemies took their place. Armies rose, and armies fell. Friends died at the hands of sudden violence, and friends died in bed at the end of a long life, surrounded by loved ones. Generations came, and generations went, and the earth endured.

And the Immortals endured.

In the year 2260, night fell upon the Sunnydale memorial cemetery, built within the very same sinkhole into which Sunnydale fell so many years ago, now overgrown with grass, and flowers, and trees. The ocean had risen in recent years, yet Sunnydale remained untouched, for even as the ocean arose, the walls of the Sunnydale canyon rose to match it, every year the same.

Such was the magic of that place.

All those who had died in the collapsed and in the days leading up to it were buried here. And in an isolated glade in the Sunnydale forest, over the very site where the Hellmouth itself had once stood, laid the graves of the Champions.

There was now no trace of the evil of the Hellmouth: the entirety of the canyon, but especially the graves of the Champions, had become Holy Ground, redeemed and sanctified by the blood of the righteous dead.

It was within this glade that Buffy stood, with Angel at her side, looking upon the graves of their friends, families, and loved ones.Anya, Connor, Gunn, Wesley, Lorne, Kendra, Kennedy, Andrew, Oz, Riley, Groo, Robin, and Fred. A few newer names rested here as well, some of them the children, grand children, and great grand children of those named before.

All dead.

Few buried.

And there, in the center of the glade, on a small rise in the terrain, were the graves of Xander, Giles, Joyce, Doyle, and Cordelia. And closest to the edge of the rise was Willow's grave – the latest addition to the glade, with Tara's close beside it, reunited at last in the sleep of death.

Those seven graves were the couple's destination. They stopped before them, bowed their heads, and held their silence for a few moments.

"Well," said Buffy, "here we are again." She let out a sad laugh, and Angel put his arm around her.

"We've tried, you know. We've tried to create the world that everyone was fighting for. Tried to live as if the world were as it should be, to show it what it could be. And we did it, too. We changed the world. For the better, even. You guys would love it."

She paused, and looks at the silent graves. Her eyes began to tear up. "The fight never ends, though. There's always power, and there's always corruption. There's always another apocalypse round the corner. Always another big bad waiting to tear down everything we've built. Waiting to tear down the new Watchers, the Slayers, the Immortals, the innocents, and the whole world."

Angel spoke to the dead, then. "No one ever said hard it would be. How many would have to fight for it. How many would have to die for it. How painful it would be. But there are some things that are worth fighting for - worth dying for. It's a new world now. It's not the peace and the harmony that Jasmine wanted to bring us... but it's peace. For all we said about it not mattering if we made a difference or not... we went and made a difference - showed everyone that the world doesn't have to be a cesspool of corruption and evil - gave them hope. Gave them a future where they don't have to be afraid of the dark anymore."

Buffy nodded. "It's a new world now. We..." her voice cracked with emotion. "I just wish you could all be here to share it with us."

Angel embraced her, and Buffy lost herself in his embrace. For a moment.

The dead said nothing.

At length, Buffy reached into the basket she held at her side and placed a single flower on each of the Champions' Graves, and two each on the graves of Xander, Giles, Willow, Joyce, and Cordelia.

They stood there for several minutes in silence. And then they turned and departed. Angel wrapped his arm around Buffy's waist, and together they walked back to where their friends were waiting.

Dawn stood on the edge of the grove, with Faith standing on her right, and Duncan MacLeod on her left. Methos stood close at hand, and Amanda, and Spike, and Illyria.

Faith – not a day older than Buffy, and the bitterness gone now from her gaze, replaced now by simple strength. Duncan looked on with the eyes of one who had seen too much. Amanda's gaze held wisdom. Spike watched the couple approach with a thoughtful look, even as he smoked a cigarette.

As for Dawn, she had grown into a stunningly beautiful woman with a nearly tangible aura of power, and of grace. Hers was the joy of the Redeemed, and in her there was no darkness; but darkness transcended. Illyria stood just behind Dawn, and while she retained the appearance of Illyria, she smiled sadly, and her eyes were full of warmth.

And Methos? Well, who can ever really know what Methos is thinking? With a somehow innocently knowing look, he smiled.

THE END

* * *

Yet once more, I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to everyone who's actually been reading this story. At some point I will be going back and revising it, as well as writing various side stories, but for now, this is the end.

May peace be with you all, and God bless.

P.H. Wise


End file.
